Just Red
by Red Sova
Summary: It was cold and wet, so very cold. He struggled trying to reach the surface but kept sinking further into the icy abyss...
1. Part 1: The Beginning

_It was cold and wet, so very cold. He struggled trying to reach the surface but kept sinking further into the icy abyss. He was frightened, more so then he had ever been before, as he sunk further and his lungs burned. He couldn't hold his breath anymore and desperately gasped for oxygen that wasn't there. Water instinctly flooded into his mouth and lungs, suffocating him. Slowly his struggles began to lessen as his vision darkened. Finally they stopped all together. His last conscious thought was a plea for someone, anyone, to help._

**_-Central Park, New York 1919-_**

Francis Squirrel sighed as he dashed through the city park, trying to find something to distract himself from his recent loss and new found loneliness. It wasn't easy as everywhere he looked he saw families happily doing something togrthrr that caused a great pain in his heart. Everything was a constant reminder that he had once had a family and lost it all:

His mother, his father, his little sister- all lost to a freak storm that had shown up out of nowhere leaving him all alone.

Sighing, he leaned against a tree and looked to the starry night sky. Hi a parents had once told him that there was a Wishing Star up there and that if he ever found it and made a wish on it, his wish would come true. Wo he came out here every night and made the same wish on different stars, praying that maybe that star would finally be the Wishing Star he was searching for. Picking a star, Francis closed his eyes and made his wish:

'I wish... I wish for a family of my own.'

He kept his eyes closed for a moment half afraid to open them before finally daring to do so...

Nothing.

The field was empty as it had been when he entered. Shudders slumped, Francis had just turned to leave when a brightly flash shined from behind him. Quickly he spun on his heels and his hazel eyes widened. There, just five feet away was a soaking wet red squirrel kit that had not been there just a second ago.

At first he stood there frozen in shock before his mind finally kicked in and rushed to the lot's side. For the first time in a long time, hope filled Francis as he picked up the unconcerned kit before glancing to the sky. It seemed he finally found the Wishing Star. Smiling as the kit snuggles into his chest fur, Francis sent out a silent 'Thank you' before rushing back to his home.

* * *

For the first time in his short life the boy who only knew himself as 'Freak' woke up feeling warm and safe with no one yelling at him or banging on his cupboard's door. Die he die? If so, Freak didn't think He minded dying that much. It felt nice actually. He just wanted to lay there all day in the foreign feeling of safety, but he knew he couldn't. What if he wasn't dead? Slowly, Freak opened his eyes and glanced up.

Francis stopped humming the moment he noticed Amber eyes watching him but kept the kit firmly wrapped in his arms. He smiled at the kit, who was watching him closely with a weary tension.

"Good morning, Kit. Sleep well?"

The kit slowly nodded, eyes watching him with extreme caution that Francis couldn't help but notice. It was almost as if the kit expected to be attacked. He put on a friendly smile, trying to show the kit he meant no harm.

"That's good. Got a name, Kit?"

The kit spoke in a soft, almost unhearable, but Francis still heard the young squirrel's reply and felt his blood go cold.

"Freak."

An icy feeling filled Francis as a thought hit him, a thought he'd rather not even think. Licking his lips he kept his voice friendly, hiding his ever growing dread.

"And who calls you that, Kit?"

"Auntie and Uncle."

Francis' grip tightened a bit on the kit. He had hoped his assumption was wrong but apparently not. It seemed his Wishing Star had brought him a family member that would no doubt need him almost as much as he needed the kit.

"Well that won't do. How about I give you a real name?"

The kit stared him in the eyes for a moment before slowly nodding. Francis hummed in thought.

Alex-? No, it didn't seem right.

Xander?- No, it didn't seem right.

Francis? -No, that would just be confusing for the both of them.

...Maybe... Francis eyed the kit closely be fire nodding. It was perfect.

"How about Red?"

"Red," the kit repeated the word a few times be fire smiling softly and nodding.

Francis smiled.

"Red it is then. Well Red, I'm your new Brother: Francis Squirrel, but just call me Francis or Brother."

The kit's eyes widened before smiling brightly.

"I always wanted a Brother." The kit spoke softly.

"Me too, Red. Me too."


	2. Chapter 2

**-Central Park, New York 1923-**

**"Red, what do you think you're doing?!"**

Red flinched at his Brother's whispered shout, hand still outstretched for the sleeping hawk's tail feathers. He had been so close. He still was. Maybe he could just...

**"Red, don't you dare lay a finger on that hawk! Get that bushy tail of yours out of that tree and down here this minute!"**

Red nervously glanced to his Brother, who he was half certain was a mind reader of some sort, then back to the hawk. He glanced back Down at Francis, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was giving Red his best 'Do as I say or else' look. Sighing, Red lowered his hand and began to make his way down the tree causing Francis to smirk. Next time, he would get the feather for sure.

Francis was still smirking when Red landed on the ground next to him causing the younger squirrel to scowl at his brother. Francis didn't even seem to notice as he pointed to the trees that was their home, shoulders slumped The young kit made his way back inside with his Brother right behind him. Red was certain, without a doubt, that he would've getting another of his Brother's long lectures.

* * *

Francis sighed as he watched Red sulk in a corner of their home, face half buried in his bushy red tail. He loved his little brother a lot, but at times he wished Red would just be a little more like other squirrels, at least then he wouldn't have to worry about whatever death defying stunt his Little Brother was up to when he wasn't around. It was like Red didn't have the self-preserving instincts that every other animal had and that worried Francis as he was certain that unless Red fount those instincts, his brother wouldn't reach adulthood.

* * *

Red was bored as he followed Francis around the park, listening to his brother speak as he pointed at different things.

"This Red is a Hawk. When you see a hawk you run. You don't try pulling out their tail feathers. Hawks eat squirrels and you're a squirrel so you run or you get eaten..."

Red sighed, he knew this already, but he just didn't see why he had to be afraid of a hawk. Red was certain he could get the feather and outrun the hawk, but Francis refused to even consider the idea. You would think after two years his Brother would be used to it, but apparently not as the squirrel was dragging Red around determined to make the lesson stick.

* * *

"Mark, Set-"

Francis raced ahead causing Red to scowls he raced after his brother.

"No fair, Francis! That's cheating!"

Francis just laughed as he reached towards the park bench, Red rapidly catching up. Francis reached out to touch the bench. When...

Bang!

A large metal cage fell over the two squirrels. Red instantly skidded to a stop as Francis brought his injured arm to his chest. Two human males walked into sight, talking to each other about:

Fast, last two, experiments and Russia.

For some reason a sinking feeling filled Red as the cage holding him and Francis was picked up and thrown into the back of a van.


	3. Chapter 3

**-Russian Lab 1926-**

Red sat huddled in the corner of his cage, his face burried in his bushy tail. The one eyed monkey hadn't been joking when he had welcomed Red to Hell ad the squirrel was certain that was what this place truly was. Almost every day he was in in some sort of pain as some human scientist watched him for hours at a time. Sometimes the pain wasn't much and Red found he could Ingore it if he focused on something else and other times...

... Other times it was excruciating. Like the time they tore out his eye and put that monstrosity in its place. And then there was the mental pain that had consumed him when Francis was killed only hours after blithely tore out livid eye.

Hatred, unlike any Red had felt before; begin to burn inside him directed solely at the Humans. He wanted them to suffer, to be consumed by the agonizing pain that filled him. He wanted revenge against Mankind as a whole. And he was determined to survive so that one day he could have his revenge.

**-1928-**

The lab was on fire as mice freed everyone. They were strangely brave for mice but Red didn't feel as if he had any reason to call the kettle black. He wasn't exactly a normal squirrel after all. He followed one if the mice out and watched in deep satisfaction as the lab burned and humans rushed around.

* * *

Red stared at The Count, unflinching as the owl stood its full height, looming over him with a predatory glaze. He wasn't afraid; he didn't have a reason to be. They both wanted something similar after all, The Count a protege and Red...

Red wanted someone to help guide him until he was ready to go out alone. Someone who couple teach him and who better then Penguin Enemy Number One: Count Victor von Sova? Finally the Count lowered himself so that sharp golden eyes stared into Red's lone Amber eye.

"I am Count Victor von Sova and you are? "

"Red. Just Red."

The Count smirked.

"Well then Red, come along. We have work to do."

Red smirked and followed the Mad Owl without a moment's hesitation. Unknown to either of them, that one action would change plans that had yet to be made concerning a world Neither of them knew existed at that time.

Just as neither of them knew that somewhere in England, Charles Potter had just married Dora Potter nee Black.


	4. Chapter 4

-1929-

The Count smirked as he watched his protege work in the lab, having managed to somehow forgotten about the outside world. Despite being young, maybe six or seven in human terms: Red was a smart kit. Something he honestly didn't expect from a squirrel, he had at first thought the ket would be like any other squirrel but he was soon proven wrong. The boy was smart and curious about most things; he soaked in knowledge like a sponge and was willing to take chances for such knowlegde. Something proven by the multiple hawk tail feathers and wolf teeth the boy had.

The kit was also very fast when needed, something that would no doubt help his protege when the Penguins finally noticed the hidden diamond he had found among a species of lump coal.

Part of him was quiet thankful to the human scientists, as if not for them he never would have found the kit and for the seed of hatred at human kind they had planted within the boy. A seed the Count fully intended to nature until the kit was ready to take on his legacy as Penguin Enemy Number One.

Seeming to notice someone watching him, the kit turned and stared the Count directly in the eyes.

* * *

Red ducked under the Count's wings, avoiding the punch aimed for his face. Spinning on heel, his leg lashed out to knock the Count's legs from under him but the owl took to the sky causing Red to scowl as his mind already worked on a way to bring the Mad Owl back to Earth.

"Is that all?"

The Count asked tauntingly. Red didn't bite the bait though; he knew what the Count was trying to do and refused to fall for such a tatic. His eye took in the room before he smirked.

"Not at all."

Rushing at a wall, Red used it to push himself off the ground before grabbing onto a hanging rope, using the sudden body mometum to swing it at the Count, aiming his foot for the owl's face. Yet once again the Count managed to avoid the attack and swooped in at Red, talons aiming for the squirrel's face. Red quickly wrapped his legs tightly around the rope and let go causing him to hang upside down and for the Count to miss.

"You're getting better."

Red grinned at the Mad Owl as he straightened back on the rope.

"I have a good teacher."

Pushing off the rope he grabbed the Count managing to wrap his arms around the avian, pining his wings to his side and causing them both to rapidly fall to the ground. The Count struggled as Red held firmly. They were almost to the ground when the Count managed to free his wings and at the same time knock Red away.

A talon grabbed the squirrel's leg only seconds before he was to hit the ground. He could hear the Count chuckling as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"True. You still have much to learn though."

The Count couldn't help but chuckle as he dropped his protege, who managed to get his feet underneath him in time to land safely on them. It wasn't that bad of a fight considering Red was still a child of not even nine summers.


	5. Chapter 5

Red stared at the penguin in amusement as he watched the flightless bird blush as the bird's emerald eyes followed Red's tail while it swayed behind him. He almost laughed when the bird fell for his fake crying act and happily ate the drugged muffin without a second thought. Part of Red wondered if all Penguins were that naïve but quickly brushed the thought away as the Penguin hit the ground.

Sighing, Red pulled out his eye patch and slide in over his closed eye. He saw horror and recognition flash in those emerald eyes right before the drug fully kicked in and the bird fell unconscious. He wasted no time in tying the bird up and dragging the Penguin, who looked around his age, to where the Count was waiting.

* * *

Nigel blushed as Agent Dylan stared at him and the squirrel standing near him in surprise.

"Don't be so surprised Dylan. My Protégé is just better than yours it seems."

The Mad Owl was obviously quite proud of the squirrel- Red- if Nigel remembered correctly from their brief conversation- as he shot the squirrel a look that usually was given by a proud parent.

Agent Dylan looked a the squirrel in horror and utter disbelief.

**_"Protégé?!"_**

The Count smirked, his golden eyes shining.

"That's right, I haven't told you yet. Agent Dylan allow me to introduce my Protégé and Son, Red."

Nigel was pretty sure he was mimicking Dylan's look of shock as he stared at the squirrel in disbelief.

This beautiful creature was the Count's Son?

The Count had a son?

Red noticing their looks smirked and gave a mock bow that had the Count chuckling fondly.

_**"Son?!"**_

"Yes, Red takes more after his mother in looks but has a mindset similar to my own."

* * *

Red had to keep himself form laughing as the two Penguins stared closer at him, no doubt just now noticing the gold in his eye. He couldn't explain how that had happened, but there had been a blinding flash after the Count adopted him and when it disappeared Red's eye had changed form amber to a gold-ish-amber that now held more gold then amber to them.

They were still keeping an eye open for any other changes.

* * *

They got away.

Nigel was frustrated about it but Agent Dylan didn't seem to mind that much saying that the Count always managed to escape at the last minute and they would get him one day. It wasn't the Count that was on Nigel's mind though; it was rather his son, Red.

No matter how much he tried, Nigel just couldn't seem to get the squirrel out of his mind.

His voice, his smile, that smirk, the burning fire in that lone eye, and the unique way his tail moved.

He didn't care about the Count, but he wanted to meet Red again and maybe this time he wouldn't make a complete and utter fool out of himself. He didn't know why but he felt like he had to prove himself to the squirrel.

He desperately wanted Red's acknowledgement and he fully intended to get it.


	6. Chapter 6

Red considereed himself a scientific type o f squirrel. Logic was very important to him and the Count in their line of work. So when strange things begin to happpen around him, Red found himself utterly befuddled as he could find no lgical explansion for it. There was no logic and no rythm. It defied all Laws of Physics, Nature, ectra...

Still it did have its uses and Red, having given up on trying to find any reason to it, found himself accepting the ...Strangeness...as another part of him. A part he only used wheen there was no other option, no other choice.

He knew better then to rely oslely on it, as who knew when one day, it wouldn't respond.

The Count knew Red was different from other squirrels but this was something else entirely. The young squirrel was meditating; something that was pretty common as a calm mind was necesssary for their line of work, what was not normal though was that the squirrel was meditating six feet off the ground with nothing- not even thin wires- holding him up.

It was logically impossible yet The Count couldn't deny his own sharp eye. The irony of it all was that Red didn't even seem to notice. As the moment the Count cleared his throat to draw the squirrel's attention, Red opened his lone eye, made a surpised noise and fell to the ground with a solid **_THUD_** and a groan.

"Ow."

* * *

After that The Count found himself a new hobby, testing the limits fo Red's new found gift, much to Red's annoyance. He really didn't mind half the time as it was only small things bt he firmly drew the line when the Count threw him off a bridge.

One moment he had been falling to what no doubt would be his death, either by impact or drowning, then there had been a loud _'Crack'_ and Red suddenly fount himself safely on the bridge, next to a grinning Count, who was looking over the railing.

Without a second thought or regret, Red pushed the Mad Owl over the edge and watched in open amusement as the avian managed to stop his fall and take flight only inches about the water.

Of course the Count didn't find I so funny when he was the one free falling and instantly went after the laughing squirrel. Yet right before the Count could reach him and no doubt tear him a new one, Red vanished with a Crack, only to reappear safely back in his bedroom at the Count's current base.

* * *

The Count on the other hand, stayed three nights in the park, trying and failing to find the red squirrel that was his adoptive son. Later, he would discover that Red had been at the base the whole time and find himself having to resist the urge to devour one of he Mice and his adoptive son in his frustration.

Said Mice avoided the Mad Owl like a plague the moment they noticed his twitching eye, what was a sure sign that one of them would be that night's dinner.

As for Red, Well...

He was far too used to his Father's sudden change in moods to let it bother him.


	7. Chapter 7

Red had always suspected that The Count and his Arch Nemesis, Agent Dylan of PMI6, were much more than Super Spy and Super Villian. Though neither of them came out and said anything. No doubt trying to be secrective about the whole matter...

They weren't very good at it as everytime they faught they tended to make more contact then neccessary and would linger for a moment too long before parting. It was so obvious Red was certain that even Nigel Could tell the two were in a relationship. He glanced over at his own Nemesis, to find emerald eyes locked solely on him. Somehow managing to once ignore the two...

Again.

So it was possible that he didn't know just yet.

Red sighed as the British Spy-To-Be rushed him before easily managing to avoid Nigel by stepping to the side. Red shook his head as the young penguin ran into the wall that had been behind him.

One day Nigel was going to learn not to rush him.. Red sidestepped to the side once again and sighed as Nigel run directly into the railing...Hopefully.

* * *

Red was exaughsted as he dragged his feet towards his bedroom. It had been another busy day and now that it was over all he wanted to was to crawl into his bed and get some rest. He pushed open his bedroom door and froze as two heads swirled his way.

Both Penguin and Owl looked guilty and surprised as they registered his presences and Red easily spots the nervous look in the Count's golden eyes. For the longest of time the three just stare until Red's brain finally kicks in and he rediscovers his voice.

"I...I'll go sleep somewhere else tonight...Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Red."

The Count called as the squirrel exited the room and softly shut the door behind him. Red stands in the dim hallway for a moment with only a single thought running through his mind.

Now what?

* * *

Nigel had to admit that the last thing he expected to see at Two A.M. was his Arch-Nemesis on his doorstep asking to stay the night. Yet there Red was, looking as if he was dead on his feet and about to just fall over and sleep right then and there in the snow.

Part of Nigel wanted to say no but a larger part of him wanted to invite the Russian inside. It wasn't everyday that Red showed up like this asking to stay with him.

Not the Count.

Not Dylan.

Not The Mice.

And Not that damn squirrel just down the street but Him.

After a moment, Nigel moved to the side and hurried Red inside before the Russian Villain could change his mind.

* * *

Red was quiet aware that Nigel had lied about the spare bedroom being Agent Dylan's but was far too tired to care, let alone argue about it.

The young Penguin probably wanted to keep a close eye on him anyway since they were enemies and all that.

Either way Red didn't care, at least he had a place to sleep for the night without having to worry about someone trying to jump his bones while he slept.

Who cared if he had to share?

* * *

Red it turns out was a quiet sleeper who cuddled in his sleep, much to Nigel's embarrassment, The Russian Squirrel latched onto him.

It wasn't that bad actually it was soft and warm, something he honestly didn't expect the squirrel to ever be to anyone, let alone to him.

Still he wasn't complaining. Who didn't like a warm body pressed to their own on an icy winter night?

Epically if that body belonged to your secret crush.

Smiling, Nigel wrapped his arms around the villain's waist, sending a metal 'Thank You' to whatever forces had drove Red there before drifting into a peaceful sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

_The thing about children_, the Count pondered as he watched adopted son move around the room, _is that when they get old enough they all leave the nest and Red was no different._

The rouge hair villain finally picked up the crimson suitcase and gave the Mad Owl a slight smile which the older fount hard to return. He always knew Red would leave but he didn't think it'd be so soon. It seemed like only yesterday he was rescuing the slightly unstable child from the savages at the Lab.

"You sure you want to do this?"

He had asked many times and knew the answer wouldn't change but he had to try one more time, maybe Red had changed his mind and was just waiting for him to speak up. That soft smile told the Count otherwise though.

"I am."

The Count nodded slowly, forcing himself not to start begging the younger to leave. Red was ready, even if he wasn't he had to have faith in his Protégé, Heir, and most importantly, his child.

"You can always come back if you need anything or if you need a place to rest. The doors always open for you."

Red nodded.

"Thank you."

"Make sure to eat, we both know how you forget when you're busy. Try to get some sleep. Keep your eyes open for any Penguins. "  
He was ranting and he knew it but he couldn't bring himself to stop. There were so many dangers out there, especially for anyone involved with him.

"You'll contact me if anything comes up or you need. Won't you?"

"Yes Sir."

"Look after your self Red. I find out you've been arrested and I'll break you out and drag you back here by that tail of yours until you're actually learned something."

Red couldn't stop himself from smiling. Many might think it was a joke, but not Red.

Red had snuck out one time to go watch a Solar Eclipse but the moment it was over he had fount himself being dragged back to the base by his poor tail once it was over by a ranting Count. Red still couldn't figure out how the Mad Owl had found him and the Old Avian wasn't telling, much to Red's distress.

"I'd expect nothing less, Farther."

After spending another two hours assuring the Count, Red finally left for the airport. He had a flight to catch to his new territory:

America.

* * *

Gone...

The word ring around in Nigel's head as he and Dylan stared at the Mad Owl in open shock.

Finally the younger found his voice, though it seemed slightly strained.  
"Gone?! What do you mean gone?!"

The Count sighed softly.

"He flew the coop. Got on a plane and left last night."

Noticing their looks the Count sighed.

"Don't look so surprise, we all knew it would eventually happen. He grew up and knows everything I could possible teach him. Now its time for him to learn firsthand without me observing his every move."

"Where?"

"America. Its unclaimed to villains so its a good place as any to learn."

Dylan couldn't help but stare at his lover in startled disbelief.

"You researched it?"

The Count huffed as if speaking to a slow person.

"Of course. I wasn't just going to send my only protégé off without knowing what sort of troubles the place he's going is in."

"And if you hadn't liked what you saw?"

The Count spoke as if it was obvious, looking down on his Lover, who in his opinion was acting a bit...Slow today.

"I wouldn't have allowed him to go."

"Of course."

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to begin our final descent to the Manhattan Airport. Currently at Manhattan the weather is sunny with a slight chill caused by last night's snow. We have certainly enjoyed having you on board today, we hope t see you again real soon, and thanks again for flying American Airlines."

Smiling, Red glanced at his window at the unsuspecting city below.

Finally...


	9. Part 2: America

America, the Land of Opportunity.

Red was pretty sure the place had other names as well but that was the only one that matter to the young Russian.

Opportunity, a chance to prove his worth not only to himself and the Count but to the world as a whole. Though he would have to careful to watch his step here. If he screwed up not only would he be imprisoned but it was possible he would be killed.

Luckily he had a plan, a simple one for now and the first step to that plan was to get out of this damn snow and into his New Base of Operations.

* * *

If you asked Red, settling in was always the easiest part. He didn't own much nor did he need much.

The New Base was a bit larger then Red would have honestly preferred but he would learn to live with it. Said base was built a good twenty maybe thirty feet under a four bedroom house- which he was supposed to be living in- though Red had a feeling he would be living in the Base more then the house.

* * *

Now that he was officially settled, Red focused on the second part of his plan:

Income.

He knew he had plenty of money within his off shore accounts should he need it but a strategic part of his mind reasoned that there was nothing wrong with adding to it and maybe opening an account here.

These things took time and money after all.

Now the question was how to multiply that money? He could invest in the Stock Market but that was more of a gamble then certainty so he would need a job of some sort. Maybe something that could help him draw in a reputation of sort?

He supposed he was good at business, though there was no way in hell he was taking a job filing paperwork and sitting behind a desk all day. He needed something different, something that would capable of occupying him for a while. Something no one would question if they say any of his blue prints laying around.

Something that would keep people from asking too many questions.

An engineer maybe? He was quite good at inventing when he felt up to it.

...

...

Inventing.

Why the hell not?

No one would question an Inventor for having blue prints, explosives or any dangerous materials lying around. He would probably be considered a bit of a recluse but Red could work with that. Especially if it kept other from digging too deep into matters concerning his second job.

* * *

The third part of Red's plan would be a bit more difficult but an absolute necessary:

Information.

Some he knew he could easily acquire but there was some that would be a bit harder to get his hands on like:

Who where the Agents in charge of this area?

Where are they located?

Weaknesses, Strengths, Family, ectra...

Which Gangs controlled this area and who's thumb where they under?

Who was in charge?

Red refused to go in blind. He would no doubt have to pay or steal some of the information but it would be worth it in the end. And while waiting for that Red figured he might as well work on another important part of his plan:

His Public Image.

Building a positive image would probably take some time and effort but in the end it would greatly serve his purpose. Heaven knew he would have to go outside his comfort zone to do so but it wouldn't hurt to obtain ties to certain Social Circles and maybe a few Political ones.

If he played his cards right, he would have influence in all the _right_ places within the month.

The very idea made Red smirk as he leaned against the Lab table, his mind already planning for the future essentials that would be needed to set his plan into full motion.


	10. Chapter 10

It was official, Red hated Business Conferences.

He could feel his headache grow as he listened to the damn bastards, who wouldn't agree to anything if their lives depended on it (a proven fact, sadly), argue over such a small matter of Trade.

Red had half a mind to just 'Mute' the lot of them, an ability he had discovered one pleasant afternoon of listening to these same nimrods, and be done with it already. Unfortunately that would only prolong this damnable meeting to another day.

Mentally groaning in misery, the Russian Inventor/secret villain, ran a hand though his hair in annoyance. He didn't care who did what or who was scamming who -they where _**all **_scamming each other-if he wasn't out of this room in the next ten minutes he was going to kill every single one of these sorry bastards.

And unfortunately for them, he had a nice wall to wall glass window to throw each and everyone of them out of.

The corner of Red lip lifted slightly as he imaged them all falling out the window, one after another in a twisted form of Follow the Leader, taking all his current problems with them. Of course the cameras and security officers would only recall them all committing simultaneous suicide.

Red ,of course, would help their families plan the funerals while mentally crackling in his head over the fact he would no longer have to attended these Conferences. It was a pleasant idea for the tired Russian, who knew he was going to have to stay overnight thanks to the idiots. He should just make them do all the paperwork to see how they liked it. Unfortunately Red couldn't, since it was all meant for CEO eye's only.

It was times like this Red sincerely regretted being in charge of his own company.

* * *

Somehow, by a Miracle of God, Red made it though the meeting without throwing a single person out the widow. It wasn't easy, they where practically begging for it, but he did it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Red was alone in his office with only his paperwork and a Cappuccino for company.

It was relaxing. It was smoothing. It was-

**_Knock, Knock._**

"May I enter Sir?"

In Red's head, a Chibi Russian cried as the peace it had only just required was stolen away.

"Come in."

The doorknob turned slowly before the door was pushed open and what looked to be a teenaged boy awkwardly entered the room. Dark black hair, pasty skin, brown eyes, Red recognized the teen instantly and sudden snapped to attention. His gaze sharpening as it moved to the envelope clutched to the teen's chest.

Robert aka Robbie Henry Carlson. A Hacker and an Errand Boy for the right price. Half the time the boy was too high off of some drug or another to be but the other half he was quite the intelligent child.

Red had offered the boy a job, not so long ago, to collect paid information from the Source for him. The Russian wasn't stupid enough to show in person and had several precautions set in place so no one tracking the Errand Boy could trace him back to Red.

"Do you have it?"

Robbie gave a brisk nod as he dropped the envelope onto the oak desk.

"The money?"

Without looking up, Red tossed the child a stack of hundred he had kept aside just for this reason, which Robbie caught with ease before counting the bills to ensure his whole pay was there and none where counterfeit.

Red liked that about the teen, he was smart enough to ensure nothing was ever what it seemed and always ensured he got his due.

While Robbie tended to his pay, Red cut open the envelope and glanced inside. A slight smirk graced his lips as he fount everything he needed was there.

"You may go."

Robbie gave a quick nod before pocketing the money, now that he was certain it was real and all there. A moment later the teen was gone, the door shut softly behind him.

* * *

Red had to admit, he was a bit disappointed about the Agents in charge of this area. They where all boring and stereotype in Red's opinion. Though one did mange to drawl the Russian's attention:

A ebony haired man with dark crimson eyes and believe it or not, natural golden blond eyebrows. He was scowling in his picture, no doubt having only taken it out of requirement. He was no Nigel, Red would say that much from the surveillance videos he watched, but the man certainly did have his own appeal to him.

It drew Red in, making him curious. Leaning back into his chair, Red began to make plans for this Agent that had unknowingly caught his eye.

This Buck Rockgut.


	11. Chapter 11

Politics as many knew was nothing more then a game of lies and deceit. Half Truths, yet never the whole, told to reach a one's goal. A game that involved one always having to stay one step ahead of the other players.

Red liked to believe that was why he was so good at it.

The Russian had a way of staying one step ahead of everyone else, carefully planning each and every move like a game of Chess, that only he knew they where playing. As far as Red was concerned, every move he made was a matter of survival. One false step and it would all come crumbling down, leaving him venerable and open to the savage wolves that where just waiting to tear him to pieces.

To bad for them, Red had no intention of lowering his guard enough to allow them such pleasantries.

* * *

With every plan come conquests.

No plan every survived being put into action, Red knew that. It was because of that reason that Red had yet to find a suitable plan for how to deal with this Rockgut. He wasn't quite ready to show himself just yet.

He would need a solid plan that couldn't possibly be traced back to him. A plan that he could control the conquests of and manipulate them to work towards his advantage.

The Russian allowed his eyes to roam over his desk as his mind already being to form and discard plans that would be of little to no use to him. Finally his gaze landed on a pearl colored envelope supporting his name in a dark cursive writing.

The Ball.

Red had almost forgot about it since he hadn't planned to attend but now Red's mind was already forming a plan to use it to reach his end goal. He would have to pull a few strings to ensure Rockgut went though.

The Agent wasn't very social, avoiding must gatherings like a plague, not that Red actually blamed him. Half the time, Red personally preferred a plague over such gatherings. The only one's the Russian really attended where the few that caught his eye and could help either keep his Public Image or advance his plans.

Humming softly in thought, Red picked up his phone.

A few whispered suggestion in the right places should at least see to it the man was placed on the Security Team.

* * *

Balls had never been Red's thing, sure he could dance and knew how to play the part wither it was Host of Guest. Red just didn't like them, the crowds, the gossip, the smell of either cheap or too expensive cologne and perfumes. It always seemed more of a Nigel thing then a Red thing.

Unfortunately for Red, Nigel had always dragged the Russian along when ever the young spy had the chance. When asked Nigel would always say 'If I have to suffer so do you' though the younger always had the feeling he was the only one truly suffering.

It seemed a bit ironic now that Red was the one dragging another there, even if they didn't know Red was behind it.

Fixing his tie, the Russian allowed himself a final look into the full body mirror before picking up his jacket and heading out for the night. If everything went as planned he wouldn't be back till the next day. If not...

Well he always had that unopened bottle of Vodka from the Count to nurse his sorrows on.

* * *

If there was one thing. One small simple fact anyone should know about Buck Rockgut it was that he Despised Parties.

The dim lights, false smile and pretend kinship. He hated it all. From the crowds to the spiked drinks. Unfortunately a mission was a mission and Buck Rockgut never failed a mission. Even one as despicable as this.

He didn't see why they bothered hiring him on for extra security, the place was as safe as it had always been with security that would make Fort Knox jealous. Bemoaning silently to himself the American allowed himself to lean against a wall as his eyes skimmed over the crowd.

There was the Mayor, already half drunk and preening under the faulty words of his little crowd of worshipers.

His wife was currently with one of her _closer_ bodyguards, slipping into one of the back rooms. How the Mayor never noticed that affair was beyond him.

There was Johnson, a mid aged programmer with a very successful business, flirting with what looked to be a teenager barely of age. Probably one of the Staff's children.

And their was Johnson's wife, soon to be ex-wife, glaring at the man's back as she excused herself from her crowd and pulled out a cellphone.

Relationship issues seemed to be the theme tonight as he spotted three couples arguing in the back of the room.

Crimson eyes moved past the two groups of business men discussing how better to scam each other before noticing a flare of red at the bar.


	12. Chapter 12

Curious despite himself, Buck fount himself cautiously moving closer to where the red flare was. Slipping in and out of crowd with ease that only came with personal experience, the crimson eyed man closed the distance between himself and his target. Once he was close enough to observe without being seen, the American realized something:

The flare wasn't a flare at all, rather it was hair.

The owner of said hair looked to be in his late teens, nineteen maybe, to early twenties. A bit young, in Buck's opinion, to be at a party like this.

The young man was dressed in a fitting black suit with a crimson tie that matched the color of his hair perfectly. His pale skin stood out where it was visible yet it seemed to suit the obviously younger man.

For a brief moment the man looked his way, scanning the crowds for something or another, unknowingly startling the American as those mismatched eyes focused solely on him. For a moment, Buck held those eyes, one eye was a dead crimson while the other was a startling golden color, before they moved over his figure without another glance.

Never in his life had Buck fount himself being dismissed as easily as the man seemed to be able to. Most usually stared at him wither it was for his golden eyebrows and dark hair or his crimson eyes. To be dismissed like that grated on the elder nerves but at the same time drew his interest towards the young man.

Seeming not to find what he had been looking for the man's mismatched eyes focused back onto his drink, a bored annoyance briefly flashing in them for only the briefest of seconds before it was gone.

Seemed he wasn't the only one here that didn't want to be. Maybe misery could do with some company?

It wasn't as if he had anything better to do while here. Confidently he made his way towards the bar.

* * *

Honestly, Red wasn't surprised in the least when Rockgut set himself in the stool next to him. It was all part of his plan after all.

The man ordered whiskey from their bartender before briefly glancing towards the younger out of the corner of his eye. Red had to force himself not to smirk as the Agent cleared his throat.

"So.. What's a young one like you doing here?"

"I was invited," Red answered taking a sip from his glass, "You?"

"Same."

From the corner of his eye, Red watched as the man accepted the shot glass and bottle before throwing back a glass.

"Where's your date?"

"Didn't bring one."

* * *

Russian. That was defiantly a Russian accent Buck heard within the younger silky voice.

He was a bit surprised to hear the man didn't have a date and the older had a feeling it wasn't from lack of being asked. Already the American had spotted four different woman looking at the younger and giggling to theirselves.

"Shame. Issues with women?"

A light shiver ran through the younger's body.

"Only one."

A couldn't stop a deep chuckle from leaving him at the younger's words. He obviously had plenty of experience with said woman and from the looks of it her affections where not returned.

While the younger man ordered another drink Buck allowed his eyes to roam the man's figure, taking in how lithe and flexible the man was. Though it was clear to Buck there where muscles hidden under the suit and figure when the man leaned slightly across the bar top to catch the thrown bottle. Seeming to feel eyes on him, the Russian glanced his way.

"Enjoying the view?"

He probably would have felt embarrassed at being caught staring if not for the light teasing tone in the man's voice. Well that answered one of his questions, the man was obviously bisexual. Well, either that or in his experimental stage.

"Very much. Thank you for asking."

A light chuckle left the Russian man as he sat back down on his stool, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

"My pleasure."

For a moment surprised filled the American before a smirk slipped onto his lips.

"Is that so? Then why don't we get to know each other a little better?"

The man's eyes flashed for a moment before his own smirk twisted into place and a light seduction entered his voice.

"Why not? Just try not to wear yourself out too quickly."

"Funny, I was going to say the same about you."

The younger laughed in a carefree way as he slipped from the bar stool and motioned for the elder to follow him. Buck happily did so keeping his eyes on the slightly swaying hips the whole way.

Maybe the Ball wasn't so bad after all.


	13. Chapter 13

Though he didn't want to admit it Red woke feeling quite comfortable and well rested for a change. The soft covers pulled over his head, hiding him from the sun and a slightly heavy weight around his waist.

It took the Russian a moment to fully wake up and recall exactly who was in the bed with him and their wounderful night well spent. It felt nice not to wake alone for a change or curled up in his lab.

It was a shame he would have to leave soon yet now that the _bugs _had been planted he really had no more reason to stay beside pleasure. And as tempting as that way, Red couldn't afford to stay for long. He had business to attend to after all.

He was just about to pretend waking, when Red felt the arm carefully lift from his waist in a slow gesture that showed the American was awake and trying not to wake Red. He could hear the other carefully leave the bed and began to gather clothes as quietly as he could.

Seems the American had the same idea as him.

* * *

Buck was mentally cursing as he gathered his clothes as quietly as possible so not to wake his partner from the night before. It had been quite a memorable night and he had personally enjoyed it but he knew their would be hell to pay if anyone discovered he had skipped out on his job to sleep with the red head man from the bar.

Dressing as quietly as he could, the crimson eyed man hopped on the spot as he pulled his pants up, almost tripping a time or two as the sleeves caught onto his heel. Thankfully he managed to slip them off without falling before noticing his boxer half hidden under the bed. Not wasting any time he swiped them up and stuffed them into his jacket pocket before looking around for his shirt.

A soft groan left the older man as he recalled giving it to the Russian sometime during the night. There was no way he would be able to get it back now without waking the other and that was something Buck had no intention of doing.

His crimson eyes danced around the room before spotting a dark red dress shirt thrown hazardly onto the dresser. There where a few buttons missing from where he had been to impatient to wait for the other to undress the night before but the majority of them where still there. Now there only laid one question:

Would it fit?

It had been slightly bigger then necessary on the younger's lithe figure but there was no guarantee it would fit him. Deciding to risk it, Buck took the shirt from the drawler and carefully slid it on. It was a bit tight but not uncomfortable so. If anything the shirt seemed to bring out his muscles with every move he made, reminding him a lot of the old army shirt he wore on the weekends. Only his Army shirts weren't made of silk.

Slipping on his jacket the American grabbed his shoes, choosing to slip them on once he was outside of the room.

He didn't want to risk being here when the younger woke. Heaven only knew how most of his partners clung to the hope of a relationship when he was only interested for the night. If he was gone before the younger woke, the man would hopefully understand the silent clue.

Nodding to himself, Buck slipped from the room, softly shutting the door behind him and paying the maid to only clean it up after noon. By then the younger should be gone. If not...

Well Buck did try to give him time.

* * *

The moment the door had shut, Red had sat up in the bed allowing the covers to pool at his waist.

A quick glance around the room showed all of Rockgut's clothes- and Red's shirt- to be gone. Red just brushed off the fact the man had taken off with one of his business shirts, he had plenty more at home; in favor of climbing out of the bed, gathering his own clothes and heading for the shower.

Once ensuring the water was at the right temperature, Red wasted no time is discarding the American's shirt in favor of slipping under the steam. A soft sigh left the Russian as icy water bared down on him.


	14. Chapter 14

Red glared at his phone as it went off the moment he set foot outside of the mansion the Ball had been held at.

He had planned to stalk Rockgut around for a bit, get to know the man's routine and a bit of in person surveillance on the Agent but now all those plans where washed down the drain.

At times, Red hated hiring a sectary. Sure she was useful at times but when it came to telling other companies wanting a meting with him to ever so kindly 'Fuck off' she never seemed capable of doing it. Now he was going to lose valuable time he could have spent observing Rockgut and his team to deal with the Bastards wanting a piece of him and his work.

If this one offered their daughter for a trade- Read: Trying to gain the Company through marriage- Red would personally kill them.

Once had been enough as far as Red was concerned.

* * *

"Sir, you're Three O'clock is here."

Red sighed softly as he glanced to his phone and hit the speakerphone.

"Thank you. Please, send them Margret."

"Yes Sir."

Bemoaning quietly to himself the Russian swirled his chair to look out the wall to wall glass window.

Hopefully this wouldn't take too long and he could finally get some real work done. He at least wanted to see the Manhattan Bridge be destroyed in person, he was quite fond of watching his own work in person and it had taken him hours to build the bomb just small enough so they only snap the cords instead of blowing the whole bridge sky high. Then there was the time it took to plant each and every bomb on every cord where it couldn't be spotted.

If everything went well, the people would just assume it collapsed due to faulty building and outside interference.

A firm knock drove Red from his thoughts as the door was opened without waiting for permission. Swirling his chair back around the Russian felt his skin go cold at the woman, shutting the door.

When she looked up a smile graced her face and her silver eyes gleamed in an all too familiar way. Of all the people to discover him, why did it have to be her?

"Hello Red."

The woman seemed to purr as she brushed snow white bangs from her eyes.

"Widow."

Was it too late to shot himself?

* * *

Red never once took his eye off the albino as she paced his office, finger running over anything she could touch.

Ebony Ivory, better known to the world as the White Widow. Red knew her solely from childhood days where the Count had tried- and failed- to get him to make friends out of other villains' children.

Red honestly hadn't minded Ebony at first, that was until she got older and decided Red should marry here due to some of her tribe's tradition. If he had know that helping her as a child would be his damnation, Red would have left her that day. Unfortunately he didn't know until it was almost too late. Ebony and her Mother had been planning some sort of Tribe Marriage behind his back.

Though the moment Red had fount out, he had ran without a single look back and avoided Ebony like the plague since. Marriage didn't scare him, but marriage to Ebony was a sure Death Sentence, one Red defiantly wasn't looking for.

"You've done well for yourself."

Widow finally speaks as she runs fingers along the bindings of his favorite book collection.

"Did you expect anything less?"

Red asks, as he leans back in his chair, his uncovered eye following her every move.

"Not really. I was a bit surprised to learn you left home without telling me though."

Red hums softly, knowing better then to fall for the silk covered trap within her words. He can't help but feel a sense of delight as annoyance flashes in her eyes.

"Care to tell me why you're here Widow?"

"Can I not visit My Intended?  
Her question sound innocent enough, sugar coated by the softness of her voice, but it doesn't fool Red in the least. The last tine she used that tone, the Russian had fount himself dealing with a few issues he never wanted.

"No."

* * *

"No."

His voice is hard and firm, telling Ebony the red head that would one day be her Mate, has not yet forgotten what happened the last time she used such a tone and wore him down enough into agreeing.

A part of her mind made a mental note to teach him how to let go of old grudges once they where married.

_If they where married, _a more traitorous part of her mind whispered softly yet Ebony quickly brushed it away. Red was her's, he just wasn't aware of it yet. He would eventually see they where meant for each other, once he stopped fooling about with that damn Nigel, that is.

She hated that Damn Nigel for getting between her and the Russian, for trying to steal what was obviously meant for her.

Silently she walks behind the Russian's chair, her fingers lightly gliding over his shoulder and across his neck. She doesn't say a word as she feel muscles tense under her touch. He was never much of the touching sort to began with.

"I need money to get out of town. Those damn Agents are currently watching my accounts."

As much as she hates to admit it, she had burnt one bridge too many. Had one more victim then she should have.

"Who did you do?"

The tone is resigned, he far too used to her way of killing to be bothered by it.

"The Council Head, Ariston."

He wasn't the best she has had, neither in bed nor when she devoured his heart for a snack afterwards.

A soft sigh leave those pale lips, without a word he opens a drawler and hold an envelope over his shoulder.

"There's three grand inside. Don't come back."

Pale fingers close on the envelope as a soft chuckle slips though her lips. He knows as well as she does that once things cool down enough she would be back. Leaning over his shoulder she lightly placed a kiss on the Russian's cheek before slipping away from his chair and towards the door.

She doesn't' have to look back to know her acidic lipstick is already burning the imprint of her lips into his cheek.

* * *

The moment the door closes behind her, Red furiously wipes away the lipstick. Scowling as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in her computer monitor and the stubborn outline of lips on his cheek.

He knew from experience it would at least take a day or two to for the outline to fully go away.

"Damn Widow."


	15. Chapter 15

In the end, Red never did get to see the bridge's destruction, his mood far too ruined by Widow's visit. Though he did catch snippets of it on the news and as he suspected it was blamed on faulty building. The company who built it was currently being sued for millions by both victims' families and the City.

Humming softly in thought, Red allowed himself to relax as he slipped on a glass of coffee.

He had no real work today, having finished that vile paperwork early this morning. He had left short note for his sectary informing her he would not be in for the day and left it up to her to keep things from falling into disaster. He was certain she would have no issues for the day, having personally insured it before he left.

Now the only thing Red really had to do was figure out what to do with his free day.

A soft smirk graced soft lips as he noticed a familiar man walking pace the Coffee Shop window. Well, he had wanted to get some first hand observation done on Rockgut anyway.

* * *

Buck Rockgut wasn't a very paranoid man but he couldn't shake the felling someone was watching him, even after he had ensured he was completely alone. His hand twitched slightly as he swore he felt eyes focusing on him.

Maybe Sargent had been right about him overworking himself?

...

...

...

Nah, there was no such thing in their line of work. Someone was following him, of that Buck was certain. He wasn't sure what they wanted though he fully intended to find out.

Once he discovered who they where and where exactly they where watching him from.

* * *

Red had to admit he was amused as he watched Rockgut twitch every time he fully focused on the Agent. The elder had quite the instincts to be able to feel Red watching him from such a distance.

The Russian personally fount it he was quite enjoying bothering the man without really having to do anything beside looking. A small smile graced the rouge hair's face as he noticed the American trying to find out who was watching him without tipping anyone off.

It was an unexpected turn of events but not unwanted, it anything it would make observing the man much more tolerable, almost like a game he and Nigel used to play.

Shame the spy wasn't there, Red was certain the three of them could have quite the fun if given the chance. Oh well, he had a new source of entertainment to keep him occupied.

* * *

_**~Somewhere in England~**_

Nigel couldn't stop a shiver form running down his spine as laid down for bed. Some poor unfortunate soul had just captured Red's attention, of that the spy was certain.

He could only hope that poor soul could hold onto its sanity until Red got bored with it or he was finally able to head to America himself.

A part of him could of sworn he heard Red crackling inside his head but the spy bushed it off, blaming it on his lack of sleep.

* * *

_**~Back in America~**_

Red couldn't help but mentally crackle as he watched Rockgut slip over a can in the middle of the road. Obviously Red's watching was effecting the poor man in an unsettling way, if he was tripping over randomly discarded trash.

Maybe he should leave the man alone for a bit?

The thought was vanished a moment later as Rockgut threw the crushed up can at the wall, in a fit of anger, only to have it bounce back and hit the man in the center of his forehead.

Leave? Forget that, not when he had his own personal comedy show right before him.

* * *

Buck couldn't stop the low growl from leaving him as he threw the blasted can into the trash.

He couldn't shake the thought that this would have never happened it that bastard- who ever it was- wasn't watching him. There was no way in hell a can could have beaten him twice if he hadn't been so focused on finding the bastard spying on him.

He mentally swore to throw the bastard off the tallest skyscraper he could find once he fount the bastard.


	16. Chapter 16

The dim lighting of the bar was a welcoming sight for Buck Rockgut as he stepped into the Tavern. Though considering the Hell of the day he had the American was certain any bar would be a welcoming sight. As long as it had alcohol at least.

After hours of searching and walking in circles, he had yet to see so much as seen a hair of his stalker. Eventually though he had left the eyes leave him almost a good half hour ago and they had yet to return, much to his eternal relief. The bastard had obviously been a professional and Buck knew from experience it was never good when a Agent was stalked. Usually it meant one or two things:

Someone was planning to assassinate said Agent or the Fan Club had finally gotten an intelligent member.

Personally he would prefer the assassination, at least that way he knew it would be quick and wouldn't be capable of scaring him for life.

The bell over the door chimed as he entered before crimson eyes scanned the Tavern, searching for a seat without too many issues waiting to happen.

The seats at the Bar Top itself was surrounded by what he recognized as one of the city's biker gangs, the way they where hunched over basically shouted they where just looking for a fight. No doubt if he sat there they would use it to start said fight.

There was a few seats open by a group of teenagers as high as kites but he didn't want to risk the scent from their smoke sticking to him. With the way his day was going, his Team would probably sign him out for Rehab believing he was getting high.

There in the back of the right corner table was the Russian man from the ball.

...

...

For a moment, Buck's eyes had completely moved over the move before snapping back once his mind registered exactly who he saw. And sure enough there was his one night stand from the Ball, sitting by himself in the back of the Tavern, mostly out of sight as he nursed a bottle of whiskey.

Well Hell, it seemed Fate did have a sense of humor and Karma was on his side for a change.

Navigating his way across the room, Buck placed a hand on the chair opposite of where the younger man was sitting.

"Mind if I have a seat?"

"You're welcome to it."

For a brief moment, surprised had flashed through the younger's golden eye, the other hidden behind bangs careless brushed to the side.

"Many thanks."

Sitting down, Buck called out for a bottle of their finest whiskey before focusing back onto the Russian across from him. Like the first time Buck had meet the younger, the red hair man was wearing a suit meant more for business then casual drinking. In that case, he had probably recently got off of work and was getting a quick drink in before heading home

"Come here offend?"

An amused gleam enter the younger's eye as the corner of his lips twitched slightly.

"Only when I need a break from work."

"Rough day?"

The man hummed softly as he took a sip from his glass.

"You can say that."

A pleasant silence filled the table as Buck accepted his bottle of whiskey and the younger kept drinking.

"About your shirt.."

Buck finally spoke trying to break the silence that had befallen them without making the conversation awkward for either of them.

He shouldn't have worried though as the man waved his hand in a dismissive manner,

"Don't worry about it. I'm using yours for pajamas anyway. We'll call it even. "

A slight corner of the elder's lips twitched upwards in amusement. Even without trying the Russian seemed to be one of the most laid back sort of people Buck had ever met. The American knew for a few his shirt hadn't even been close to the value of the younger's yet the man didn't really didn't seem to care about the scam of a deal.

"Of course."

* * *

Red had to admit he was a bit surprised when Rockgut entered the same bar he was in, though it was more of a pleasant surprise then any. That pleasant feeling only grew when the other asked from the seat across from him.

It seemed the Agent was mostly doing his job for him, not that Red minded, though he was slightly amused when the other brought up his shirt.

It was just a shirt after all, Red had plenty more at home and the American's was quite comfortable to sleep in. Much more then any of Red's could possible be, so Red didn't really mind making what many would see as a scam of a deal.

"I don't believe I caught your name last time we met."

Red glanced up at the man, allowing a brief smirk to slip onto his lips.

"I didn't give it."

A playfully seductive smirk slipped onto Rockgut's face as he leaned forward a bit.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to give me it?"

Red allowed a seductive teasing look of his own to slip into place as he flirted back with the Agent.

"You can always try."

A deep chuckle seemed to radiant from the other's chest as his eyes gained a half lidded look.

"It would be my pleasure."

Red could feel his smirk grow as he gave the Agent his best 'Give Me Your Best Shot' look.

"Well then, why don't you stop talking? Unless, of course, that's all you can do?"

The both knew Rockgut was capable of much more but Red couldn't help but to jab at the man and his pride.

Red almost laughed as the man gave him an insulted look and stood on the spot, forcing his chair back, before pulling the Russian to his feet.

"Oh, I'll show you exactly what I can do."

Without another word, Red allowed Rockgut to drag him out of the Tavern to what promised to be a very pleasant night for the both of them.


	17. Chapter 17

Buck had to admit he was in a good mood lately, all thanks to that slender Russian he had brought home with him the night before. He felt as if he could take on the Mad Owl himself with a hand tied behind his back and blindfolded. Of course he wouldn't be trying to do so in real life anytime soon.

Everyone knew the Mad Owl was currently located somewhere in England so it wasn't like he would get the chance any time soon either. Still nothing could kill his current mood.

"The Count's Protégé is in America."

Except that.

* * *

Jethro watched in amusement as his young Protégé spat out his coffee, almost heading Sargent in the process.

"What?"

Honestly he didn't blame Young Rockgut in the least. He had a similar incident when the report had appeared on his desk. It wasn't the best news to deliver but he preferred to get it done and over with so they could plan how to deal with this sudden twist.

Sighing softly, Jethro repeated himself a bit slower. Sure it was hard to swallow the news but it wasn't that had to understand.

"The Count's Protégé is in America."

* * *

The Count's Protégé is in America. The Mad Owl's Protégé, here in his land.

"What the Hell is he doing here?! The Count's in Bloody England!"

He watched as Jethro closed his eyes and ran a hand through his silvering hair, thinking of a way to explain the issue.

"The Count's letting him venture on his own. He believes his Protégé is ready for the world without his constant aid, or at least America. From what I can tell, he's probably already been here for three months at the most. "

Three months. The vile vermin had been running around his Country for three months without a single person so much as catching a glimpse of him. It made Buck recall that moment when he was certain some professional bastard had been following him.

Had it been the Count's Protégé?

Had he already been plotting while they sat here unaware he was even there?

Did he have something to do with Widow's suddenly fleeing the City without having to withdrawal money?

Damn it, the man was an unknown, something Buck honestly didn't feel safe with. They didn't know who he was or what he even looked like, yet the other probably already knew what they all looked liked and where they lived.

It was an unnerving thought but the American knew that with anyone who was the Count's Protégé was most likely well trained to figure out any and all information immediately upon arrival. The Mad Owl wouldn't teach an idiot after all.

They would need a plan, something to lure this Protégé out.

* * *

Red carefully glanced through his plans, a cautious eye market each and every possible exit on the building blueprints. His twisted mind was around playing out possible scenarios, both good and bad, for his current goal.

Breaking into the APA Headquarters.

It would be a risky move, Red knew that, but risk was all part of his job. If it went right, the rewards would be well worth the risk. If it went wrong, well...

He had experience removing bullets and escaping heavily guarded areas while wounded.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that but Red knew if it did he would be prepared. The Russian focused his attention back onto the blueprints carefully memorizing each and every hallway and room within the building. With luck it would be a 'Get in, Get Out' Operation. No one would even know he was there until it was too late.

It was the best Red could bring himself to hope for.

* * *

What was it with Agencies and white walls?

Red pondered silently to himself as he walked quietly down another deserted hallway. So far, he had run across no real issues though that may have something more to do with his stolen uniform and identification card.

No one seemed to bother him, thinking him a man of high rank. It was almost laughable, how none of them even realized he wasn't one of their own. A part of Red pitied their ignorance yet another larger part of him had no real issues using their ignorance towards his advantage.

It was their own fault for being so acceptably guidable and not questioning why a man of his supposed status would be within the Headquarters at such an ungodly hour.

Entering the main office, Red glanced down at the small monitor that he was using for a watch, ensuring his loop of a security guard doing his nightly routes was still in play before heading towards The Computer Mainframe.

He would only need ten minutes before he would have the whole mainframe downloaded: three to hack in, four to download, one to exit and two to erase any sign an outsider had been inside the system.

Now the only thing left to do was keep an eye out and ensure no one spotted or interfered with his work.


	18. Chapter 18

Jethro was pissed, though for a very good reason. After countless years of leading the APA he had never- not once in his whole career- had a plan backfire as badly as their one to deal with the Count's Protégé did.

Like they had planned the man had snuck into the facility, unable to resist the call of their Computer Mainframe and all its information, as they planned. Once he was inside they had surrounded the room, ready to bust in and detain the man.

Yet the moment they had finally done so, the man had already downloaded all the information from the Mainframe. Jethro had of course shouted out a chance for the man to surrender himself or they would shoot upon entering the room. The Protégé though, He had looked up and smirked at them-Smirked!- as if he was playing a childish game with them.

What he did next defied all logic and the laws of Nature. The man had spun on heel and vanished with a soft _**'Crack'.**_

Jethro had instantly had the whole room searched only to discover the man had truly vanished, with all their information in tow. How the man did it was beyond their scientist, who had been gathered and watched the video multiple times in hopes of finding an answer- some suspected the Protégé had a teleporter built at wherever his Base of Operations was currently located.

His watch was theorized to be the activation pad, as it had been hidden when he had spun on heel. Though there was no real solid evidence.

The only thing Jethro was certain of was how bad this mission had been screwed up and the catastrophic damage that would no doubt show itself in the future thanks to this screw up.

* * *

_That had been a bit too close for comfort_, Red allowed himself to sigh softly as he appeared in his home and collapsed onto the couch, clutching the flash drive he download the Mainframe onto a bit tighter then necessary.

Thank God he had thought to disguised himself before actually going. Reaching up, Red pulled out the pitch black wig and tossed it to the side before running fingers through his hair before carefully removing the earthy brown contact from his good eye- his other having been hidden by the wigs bangs- and placed it onto a napkin on the table.

All the cautiously paranoia the Count had drilled into him was finally paying off for the better. As now instead of looking for a red haired, golden eye man those Penguins would instead be searching for a black haired, brown eyed man.

Though Red couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until they suspected they where chasing a faulty lead. It really didn't matter though, the longer they chased ghost the longer he had to plot his new disaster. And what a disaster it would be with this new information.

A smirk slipped onto the Russian's face as he glanced down at the innocent looking flash drive a dangerous gleam entering in his eye. He really should send those American Agents a _'Thank You'_ card while he was at it. It wasn't every day he was personally handed a Nation's worth of information and secrets.

* * *

"When you find that Bastard, I want you to shoot him."

Buck glanced up from his newspaper at his scowling mentor, who looked more like he wanted to tear a person limb from limb. He knew Jethro was pissed about the Protégé having escaped with all their Mainframe's information but this anger seemed to be radiating for another problem all together.

"Why?"

Jethro's only answer was to throw an envelope before him, causing Buck to raise an eyebrow at the innocent looking paper. He put down his newspaper in favor of cautiously picking up the envelope, trying it in hand as he looked it over.

It seemed to be a plain white envelope, usually purchased in any store or post office by thousands of people a day, though on the front was an elegant crimson writing reading: _Jethro &amp; Co._

Reaching inside, Buck removed and started, slightly taken back at what seemed to be a card thanking them for the information and promising to put it to _'Good'_ use. It wasn't signed, though it really didn't need to be for a person to put two and two together.

"He sent us a 'Thank You' card?"

Buck couldn't help but ask in disbelief.


	19. Chapter 19

_**~England~**_

How does someone screw up that badly?

Nigel pondered as he stared at the report from their American Counterpart, who he was certain where first class idiots. Those blasted Americans had used their Mainframe and bait and had lost it without even getting a real good luck at Red.

Honestly, Black hair and brown eyes?

Everyone knew Red had red hair and a golden eye. His other was solely crimson due towards it being as Red called it, an 'artificial monsterity'. Had those American's been drunk when they confronted the Russian?

Scowling, Nigel placed the document back into its file. This was why he didn't want other's dealing with Red. Everyone else seemed to be determined to prove theirselves incompetent- for who but an incompetent Agent uses important, classified data as bait?- when it came to dealing with the Russian villain.

Of course his determination to prove the American's incompetent had everything to do with his duty as a Penguin and nothing at all to deal with this _'Buck Rockgut'_ -What type of name was that anyway?- Red had mentioned briefly in a short letter he sent Nigel.

It didn't matter though, now that he had fount proof the American's couldn't handle the younger, Nigel was determined to tack the Russian down and deal with Red himself.

He would hurry home and pack if he intended to board the first available fight to America. Standing, Nigel quickly put away the file and swiftly left for his home. After all, the next flight left in less then an hour.

* * *

_**~America~**_

Red grumbled softly to himself as he continued working on the cursed paperwork, once again confided to his office.

Turns out leaving his Sectary in charge for a day had been a terrible idea, how they managed to blow three of the Company Labs in less then an hour was beyond Red. They must of been _specially gifted_ in that area to manage such a thing from such a simple task of sitting at their desks. Although it had taught Red two very important facts:

Next time to just leave Reeve in charge- He seemed to be the only component employee capable of managing without Red personally being in the building- and he should probably leave his cell phone on next time he took a day off.

Red paused in his work as a shiver ran down his spine and arms, despite the fact he was wearing long sleeves and the office temperature was a warm 76 degrees.

Grabbing a tissue, the Russian wiped his noise and tossed it into the waste basket. Usually the only time he felt like this was if he was coming down with a cold or some serious issue involving Nigel was about to occur, but Nigel was in England and Red was safely in America. Far away from the Spy and any issues he could possibly cause.

Frowning, Red placed a hand on his forehead, just to check. He didn't feel cold, his skin was actually quite warm under his palms. Definitely not a fever, which only left one possibility:

Nigel.

Yet what could the Spy possibly do that would cause him issues from such a distance?

After a moment, Red brushed his thoughts away. Nigel was in England, there was nothing the British Spy could do that would effect him. Not while they where in different continents.

_Everything will be fine_, Red assured himself as he returned to his work. Banishing the feeling of someone walking on his grave out of his mind.


	20. Chapter 20

If there was one thing Red had inherited from his mentor, it was the utter distain for failure.

The Russian hated failure of any sort, wither it be his own or those he hired to do a small job for him. Especially if he paid for the best and gave them a simple mission.

Usually those that failed him didn't get a second chance to do so again.

"I swear Sir, it was those damn Agents. I had the program but they took it from me. I couldn't stop them."

Another thing Red inherited from the Count was his utter distain for excuses. His lone eye narrowed dangerously at the man before him.

"One simple mission," the icy tone caused chills to race down the man's spine as that lone eye focused on him, "I gave you one simple mission an idiot could fulfill and not only did you fail but you have the nerve to show your face to me."

"I swear Sir, it won't happen again."

"No, it won't."

_**BAM!**_

Red sighed softly as he placed his gun back into his desk drawler. Why was good help so heard to find these days?

* * *

Buck scowled as he watched the Medical Examiner's remove the body from the river. Even water logged the American was capable of recognizing the man as the same one that tried to steal the Weapons Program from a restricted felicity almost a week ago.

"Any Identity?"

"None Sir. Possibly a mugging gone wrong?"

A frown fount its way to Buck's face. It was possible but at the same time, it didn't seem right. If anything it was most likely whoever had hired the man hadn't been pleased to learn that he failed. Sadly just assuming things wouldn't be acceptable without proof.

"No, he's wearing a Rolex Watch. A mugger would have taken it. Nor would have a mugger have bothered dumping the body, he would have left it where he mugged it."

He watched as Jethro kneeled next to the body, examining the bullet wound with a cautious eye.

* * *

A single shot right between the eyes. Either a good marksman or a professional judging from how clean the wound was.

Seeing as their was no other post mortem wounds, Jethro fount himself leaning towards a Business Execution. Most likely whoever had hired the man hadn't been all too pleased with his failure and dealt with the issue in the securest way possible.

Shame really. John Doe, as they where calling the victim until they discovered his identity, probably would have been good source of information for several not so legal activities going on within the city.

Standing, Jethro sighed softly as he watched the body be bagged and carted to the M.E.'s van.

* * *

"-And in today's news a body was fount in the Hudson River. Police have yet to identify the man though cause of death was ruled a single shot to the head-"

A moment later the television went pitch black as it was clicked off by an irritated Russian. With the way every news station was ranting you would think he had killed the President, not some incompetent who probably would have sold out all his allies for a quick hundred.

Red honestly didn't see what the issue was or why everyone was determined to make it such a big issue. Murders happened daily around the area he had dumped the body- too many people burning too many bridges or unable to pay back debts borrowed from Gangs and at times the Mafia- no one honestly should have cared if another body washed up.

Yet they did and Red was willing to bet his good eye that those blasted Penguins where behind it. Those damn pest where always causing him issues, even when it wasn't their intention to do so.

He would have to do something about them but for now, Red had other issues to deal with that was much more important then a few Agents tugging at dead ends.

* * *

Nigel frowned as he stared at the newspaper in his hands. An unsolved murder with no possible clues to who was behind it and more dead ends then thought possible.

The whole issue just screamed Red to Nigel.

A soft chuckle left the Spy as he looked over the American's file. It was painfully obvious that Red was just messing with their Counterpart and seeing how they reacted towards the Russian, Nigel almost pitied the American's once Red decided to get serious and stop preparing for whatever he was up to.

Folding the paper, Nigel stuck it into his pocket while relaxing in his seat. Ten more hours, then he could began his search for his Russian Nemesis. Until then, Nigel could only hope the American's managed to hold their own against their skilled foe.

...

...

Who was he kidding? He hoped the whole organization was in flames by time he got there. Then he would have the ultimate proof those American's where incompetent and they- especially that Rockgut- would be taken off Red's case.


	21. Chapter 21

If there was one thing Buck Rockgut hated it was Business Meetings with the Organizations the Agency thought could help them in one way or another.

He hated having to spend his time trapped inside a stuffy room while dealing with the Slime ball Business men that owned the Companies. They where all the same as far as he was concerned: Selfish men who probably spent hours thinking of new ways to scam others while lining their own pockets.

Why they kept sending him to be liaison for these men was beyond Buck but a mission was a mission, so the American kept his thoughts to himself and did the best he could without reaching across the table and snapping the other party's neck.

Closing his eyes, Buck leaned back in his chair and tried to relax as he waited for the current Business man he was suspend to be making a deal with. What type of person would this Mr. Red be? Probably an greedy old man who believed himself better then anyone else. Or maybe a younger man who thought he was God's Gift to the world. Was he married or did he believe himself a _'Lady's Man'_?

Another thing Buck hated was going in blind but he didn't seem to have much of a choice on the matter. Mr. Red had done well to keep information about himself hidden from anyone who would go searching.

A brisk knock caused Buck's eyes to shot open as he straightened in his chair, giving a slight nod toward Jethro to let the person in.

* * *

The first person to enter the room was a blond hair man with shades covering his eyes, a clip in his ear and dressed in what Buck instantly labeled as a 'Bodyguard' suit.

He seemed to glance around the room, searching for any signs of danger before seeming satisfied enough to move to the side and allowing the next man inside. Buck felt his breath hitched as the man walked into the room, his familiar colored hair was like a flare in the night for the American. His visible golden eye scanned the room before landing on him and pausing for a moment.

It wasn't possible. He was a teen-possibly young adult- there was no way he could be the shrewd Business man Buck was waiting for. Maybe his son?

For a moment the American allowed his eyes to drift towards the door but no one else entered. Finally he allowed his eyes to drift back to the young man who he had slept with not to long ago, disbelief clear in his eyes.

The corner of the younger man's lip lifted slightly as amusement flashed within his eye before being replaced with a more business like look.

"Good Morning, Gentleman. I am Mr. Red. "

* * *

Red, though he would never admit it, fount the startled look on Rockgut's face hilarious. The poor man looked as if he was about to go into shock making Red ponder how the man would react if he discovered who Red truly was. Now that would be quite amusing to see but now wasn't the time or place for such things.

A part of Red crackled as he shock hand with Jethro then the other Agents there- minus Rockgut who still had yet to get his brain running- before sitting across form the poor Agent. He couldn't help but feel amused as he noticed Jethro kick the back of Rockgut's chair, snapping him out of his shock.

* * *

_Some God was fucking with him_, that Buck was certain of. He tried to focus on the Mission at hand but it was hard to do with _Mr. Red_ -Now it seemed painfully obvious- distracting him, wither it was with that unruly smirk or a slight tilt of his head in a suggestive way that caused Buck's sole focus to be on that pale skin.

He couldn't focus like this, not when every more the younger made caused his mind to drift towards those blissful nights. The American couldn't help but be relieved when recess was called and the Russian left the room the room to deal with an important call.

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jethro asked as he watched his apprentice burred his head in his hands. It wasn't like his apprentice to end up like this when dealing wit what he called 'Sleazeball Businessmen'.

"I know him."

"Excuse me?"

Sargent had finally looked up from his phone, focusing solely on his Team's Weapon Expert.

"I know him," The man repeated a bit slower as if talking to a toddler.

"And how do you know Mr. Red? The guy takes recluse to a whole new level."

For a moment, the Weapon's Expert shifted in his seat before making up his mind.

* * *

"It doesn't matter. I was just surprised to see him here. "

There was no way in Hell could he tell them that he had been sleeping with the man. It wasn't something he believed they would be able to understand nor he did desire for any of them to start interfering with his Love Life.

He would just have to collect himself, hopefully before Mr. Red returned from that call, and force himself to focus on the whole reason for the meeting. They needed that deal.

Both the Agency and his Mission depended on it.

The sound of the door opening make the Weapon Expert look up to see the younger man re-enter the room. The first few buttons of his jacket and shirt undone, allowing the American to catch a glimpse of pale hairless skin.

Too bad it was easier said then done

* * *

Red, if he was honest, would admit he quite enjoyed messing with people and Rockgut was no exception.

The American was the Russian's favorite game to play, he pulled the other along on string only he noticed. Though it wasa game Red honestly should had ended weeks ago, yet the Russian fount himself reluctant to do so. The Agent was new, refreshing and oh so different from Nigel.

Don't get him wrong, Red was quite fond of the Spy, but the Russian needed something new.

And that something was the American Agent, Buck Rockgut was the polar opposite of Nigel. Nigel never would have allowed himself to be pulled along into Red's madness. Rockgut though, had no idea of the Russian's supposed insanity and unknowingly walked further into Red's lunacy.

Smiling to himself, Red sat across from the American Agent and continued on with his current game.


	22. Chapter 22

Paperwork was the bane of Red's existence, _The One True Evil_.

No matter what he did, it never went away. He worked on it for hours and more just showed up minutes after he finished. He burned it to ashes and his Sectary would just bring him the back up copies she had learned to print before giving her boss said paperwork.

He had once tossed it all into a paper shredder before lunch only to come back and find not only had the paperwork returned but it had tripled. Eventually the Russian finally gave up on trying to destroy the file thing and resigned himself to having it there daily.

Rubbing his warily eye, Red groaned softly at the headache building behind his temple. A quick glance at his watched showed it to be a little past three in the morning, how it got so late without him noticing was a mystery Red really didn't have the patients to solve. Standing, the Russian grabbed his jacket and keys before heading out.

* * *

The one thing Red hated about his new home was how lonely the place seemed at night. During the day, the Russian fount he could ignore it with ease but at night- when there was nothing to distract him- Red was unable to ignore how big and empty the place actually was.

It had been built for families, not a single man like him. Asleep on his feet, Red closed the house door behind him, ensuring it was locked before heading upstairs towards one of the bedrooms he claimed for himself.

Slipping off his shoes, Red careless tossed them into a corner of the room. His jacket hit the floor as the Russian glided across the room before collapsing onto the soft bed. Closing his eye, Red allowed his mind to drift into sleep.

A soft chuckled echoed through the room as emerald eyes closed.

* * *

Red wasn't the most rational person in the morning, he tended to act more on instinct -not that it was a bad thing, instinct had saved his life multiple times- then rational thought. Yet one of the things his instinct and rational thought agreed upon was a pillow should never breathe.

A lone eye cracked open only to shut moments later as the blinding sun hit the Russian in the face. One day he would remember to set up blinds but today didn't seem to be that day.

"Good Morning."

Red could feel every muscle in his body tense at the familiar voice, sounding far too amused for Red's liking. Daring to open his eyes, Red glanced up at what should have been his pillow. Instead he was met with emerald eyes, looking far too amused for Red's liking, and familiar silver hair.

A part of Red couldn't help but wonder how the Hell did this man always fount him.

"Get the Hell out of My bed, Nigel."

Instead of seeming insulted the spy chuckled softly as a hand came to rest on the younger's lower back.

"It's nice to see you too Love. Nice to know your morning charm hasn't disappeared."

A low growl of annoyance left the Russian as he rested his hand back onto the Spy's chest, it was too damn early for this.

* * *

If there was one way to lure Red out of bed it was with coffee. The rouge hair man had an addiction for the beverage that Nigel wasn't exactly sure was healthy, not that Red cared when Nigel made his protests to how much the younger drunk.

A part of Nigel fount it adorable to watched the man most of the world feared, stumble down the stairway while clutching forest green sheets that where wrapped firmly around his body, like a child not yet ready to get out of bed. A very disobedient and angry child but a child none the less, the Spy watched in amusement as the younger man forced sat at the barstool, resting his head on the cold marble tile.

Usually Red hated Nigel with a vengeance but it was hard to hate someone who made you coffee and breakfast after a long night at work, that was until a sausage he was about to eat was stolen from his plate. A low growl left the Russian as he placed an arm protectively around his breakfast and bared his teeth at the Spy, silently daring him to try it again and see what would happen.

Red didn't care if the elder man cooked it, the moment it was placed before him it became his and the Spy would have to learn to do without.

* * *

Instead of seeming insulted, Nigel chuckled and ruffled the younger's already messy hair, causing teeth to snap at him. Red was always good fun in the morning before he collected himself.

Sometimes the younger was a bit feral and other times he was a model gentleman, it seemed feral had won this morning though. The Spy didn't really mind though, feral was always great fun, though the British man usually preferred it in bed and not at the table.

"Down boy. Not in the kitchen."

That lone golden eye glared at him as the younger checked over his coffee, for any possible tempering -Honestly you poison someone one time and they hold it against you for life- before taking a small sip. The blissful sigh that left those pale lips made the other's distrust utterly worth it.

* * *

"How did you find me?"

The silky smooth voice cut through the silence that had befallen the two, causing a slight smile to temporally come to the elder's lips.

"How can I not?"

A flat unamused look came to the Russian's face as he narrowed his eye in distain. It didn't take a genius to know he was already threading on thin ice, but the British man honestly didn't care. He knew how to deal with Red, if the younger was to snap.

"Now then," the Spy placed his glass and felt his own eyes narrowing as he leaned onto the bar top.

"Who is Buck Rockgut?''


	23. Chapter 23

**_"Who is Buck Rockgut?"_**

Not much could anger Nigel, he was usually a calm and deceptive person, but he couldn't stop the ting of anger from filling him at the man's name.

An elegant crimson brow rose slightly as if asking wither or not Nigel was serious.

"I belive I mentioned that in my letter, he's an Agent for the APA."

Annoyance flashed in the elder man as the younger purposely mistaken what he was asking for causing his anger to boil ever so slightly.

"I mean who is he to you?"

For the briefest of seconds something flickered in the younger's eye before being replaced with a startling neutral gaze.

"Jealousy does not suit you Nigel."

"Stop avoiding my question."

For a moment, Nigel allowed his anger to seep into his tone as he stared harshly down at the younger man, rage coursing through his bones. The silent threat was clear enough for a blind man to notice, causing the Russian to give a soft sigh before focusing on the elder man.

"Calm yourself, Nigel. He's one of My Games. "

For some reason that didn't calm Nigel, though it helped to tranquil his anger.

"Are you serious about this one?"

* * *

Red hummed softly as he leaned back into his chair and look a light sip of his coffee. For a moment the Russian didn't answer as he considered the question.

Was he serious or was this just another part of his game?

It was hard to tell at times. He was fond of Rockgut in a way that he had usually only preserved for Nigel yet he wansn't sure exactly where he wanted to place the American. It was a complicated matter, though he had no intention of telling Nigel that. The Brit was already boiling on the edge of rage and Red had no desire to put up with another of the elder's 'episodes'.

"It all depends on how he plays the Game."

Knowing it was the best answer Red would allow him, Nigel decided not to push the subject and instead focused on another question that had been running through his head since he recived the letter.

"Does he know who you really are?"

"Nyet," the answer was instant with no doubt hidden within the tones of his voice, "He only knows my persona: Mr. Red."

* * *

Disbelief curse through Nigel as he openly stared at the relaxed Russian.

"Not the smartest player you picked up, huh?"

A soft smile- how long had it been since he last saw Red honestly smile like that- fount its way to the younger's face.

"Nyet, That title is reserved solely for you."

And like that Nigel felt his anger at the Russian be extinguished like a flame in the snow. It was always hard to stay angery with Red, his words like nectar always smoothed over any wound and distain within the Spy.

It wasn't a fair play by far but Red was never really fair to began with.

* * *

Red wasn't fond of letting Nigel- of all people- live in his house. Honestly he had half a mind to dump the Spy into the nearest Sewer System and be done with it but he never seemed to get around to it.

Every time he truly began to consider it, the British man always seemed to noticed and instantly distracted him from his violent thoughts.

It was grating on Red's last nerves.

He enjoyed his plotting and nothing Nigel could say or do would ever change that.

The only safe place for him seemed to be the underground base that Nigel-thankfully- had yet to find. Though the Russian knew it would only be a matter or time, which was why he was subtlety working on cleaning up another base near the Central Park.

With luck it would be done in just a few more days.


	24. Chapter 24

_LuckyNumber1,_

_I suppose you can say that. Nigel is quite easy to rile up once you know how. Anyway to clear up, Red despite being a squirrel most of the time actually spent time as a human running a rather successful business under a persona. Currently he is human though I'll try to remember the viewers cannot read my mind and be more clear when it concerns matters such as different species. I would like to thank you for catching my slip before it got too far into the story an apologize for taking so long to get back to you._

_Sincerely,_

_Red Sova_

He was about ready to commit murder...Again.

The Russian man glared angrily as he stared at his remodeled home. All he had wanted to do was come home and rest after a long tiring day of dealing with half brained idiots and incompetent employees who could hardly write their names without him holding their hands.

"What did you do?"

The Russian all but hissed as the British Spy smiled, his emerald eyes shinning in open amusement.

"Do you like? This place was so gloomy I thought I'd make it more...Homely."

A golden eye swept around the room taking in the excessly bright colors and flowers decorating what has one been a more...Modest home.

"Nyet. Its too bright. Are you trying to blind me?"

For a moment his eyes flickered to the flowers the British man had been tending to when he entered the room.

"Are those Rosemary?"  
A smile lite up the other's face, proud that the Russian seemed to reconize some of the flowers he had specificlly chosen.

"Would you like to smell?"

They always did have a pleasnat fragrance that was said to relax others to them. Without waiting for an answer the Spy stood across the room in three big steps and shoved the vase under the other's nose.

Instantly Red batted the vase from the other's hands talking several step back as he began to sneeze uncontrolably.

"Red?"

"You...Achoo!... Nim-Achoo!-rod! I'm...Achoo!...A-a-a-achoo! Alergic to...Achoo!...Rosemaries!"

God's above, not only was Nigel making his home life miserable he was apparently out to kill him. He could hear the other cursing behind him but didn't really care as he covered his nose with a handkerchief and tried to gain control over himself.

"Why didn't you say anything!?"

"I wa-Achoo!-sn't expecting you to a-Achoo! invade my home with them!"

He managed to force out the words before dissolving into another fit while quickly heading for the door.

* * *

Well, that had defiantly backfired, Nigel thought to himself as he heard the door slam shut behind the Russian. Though in his defense how was he to know the Mad Russian was allergic to the same flowers he preferred to use when Courting another?

Its not like Red went out of his way to tell anyone.

Grumbling to himself at his horribly failed attempt, the British man quickly began to gather the flowers he had spread around the home. Red probably wasn't allergic to all of them but he would rather not take the chance. Shoving the flowers into a thick black bag and tying the bag shut the emerald eyed man couldn't help but grimace at the lingering smell that he usually enjoyed.

Red wouldn't be able to come home today or tomorrow with the way the pollen and smell was lingering. Good thing the other seemed so fond of his office, since the spy highly doubted the Russian trusted hotels enough to stay a whole night, let alone two, in them.

* * *

Despite how much he enjoyed his office and how comfortable his rolling chair was, Red had been rather looking forward to sleeping in his own bed. Shame Nigel had other ideas and now he couldn't return home for the next two days.

Just thinking about it fueled the others anger towards the Spy but he quickly pushed it down and douse the burning flames. He doubted being righteously angry at Nigel would do him any good.

Pulling the fluffy cover his lovely secretaryhad hand made him for when he worked on those cold winter nights- that woman was getting a raise- the Russian curled up further into his chair and attempted to get some rest. He had almost succeeded into drifting into a light doze when the sound of his office door opening causing that lone golden eye to open.

Upon seeing who it was -Thankfully not Nigel with _more_ of those accursed flowers- the Russian couldn't help but relax slightly.

"Mr. Red."

"Mr. Rockgut."


	25. Chapter 25

"How did you know?"

The younger asked as he used his elbows to prop himself up on the American's chest. For a brief moment confusion ran through the other's crimson eyes before understanding quickly followed.

"Your Secatuary. She called saying you were playing Host to one of the Nancy Cats from overseas and he inficted your home with something you're allergic to so you couldn't go home."

For a brief moment, Red allowed a small smile to grace his face. Margret was defiantly acquiring that raise and paid vacation.

"I see. So the big, strong Amercain rushed to the rescue."

He was teasing and judging from the grin on the other's face the Agent was quite aware of it.

"Of course, I can't just leave a Damsel in such distress."

A brief look of mischief crossed the other's face as he grinned mockingly.

"My Hero. Whatever shall I do without you?"

"Slay the viligant Dragon known as Paperwork?"

"I would rather feed You and my House Guest to it."

For a few moments the pair was able to keep a straight face before before the snickers escaped. Calming himself only moments later, the Russian laid his head back on to the American's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

It was quite smooting really and within no time at all the Russian fount himself drifting as fingers ran gently through his hair.

Maybe Nigel did have a reason to worry after all. Then again, maybe not.

* * *

Red was the first to wake, not that he was all that surprised; Old habits died hard.

Carefully untangling himself from the American the younger quickly gathered his discard clothing and headed for the shower. After placing the water to the perfect temperature, the rouge hair man climbed inside. Allowing the hot water to wash over him as it smoothed his aching joint and cramped muscles, Red leaned his head back allowing his mind to wonder.

It wasn't something he usually allowed himself to do as his mind would wonder to things that he wasn't quite sure how to explain but was certain involved those brief moments that had once been his childhood:

A woman with hair like fire and eyes of emeralds. A man that turned into a large black dog. A green light that was strangely similar to that of the woman's eyes.

It was ridiculous really, either that or his overactive mind had decided to team up with his imagination and play tricks on him. Yet the woman...

It was...Possible she was part of a memory. He saw a lot of her when he looked into the mirror.

Maybe she had been his мать? Or maybe his child like mind had created her and as he grew he had forgotten her for a while?

Did it really matter? He had a family; a Brother that loved him and was now forever lost to him, a Father who's legacy he carried and would happily carry till the day he died.

Frowning, Red opened his eyes and forced his thoughts into a corner of his mind before locking them away. Cutting off the water, the rouge hair man grabbed a towel from nearby and began to dry himself off.

He wanted to have breakfast made before Buck woke as a 'Thank You' for letting him stay until he could go home.

* * *

"You know, if inventing ever fails you can always become a Chief."

Leaning back in his chair Buck Rockgut watched as a brief grin filtered onto the other's face, seeming to make the other look even younger then he was.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Satisfied that the other was actually listening to him, the American took a bite of the giant pancakes on his plate, covered in syrup, before moaning softly in bliss. He had to acquire that recipe, he had never tasted such a delicious pastry before, minus the muffin he had gobbled down only minutes before.

"Can I keep you?"

The other's golden eye shine with amusement as he gave a soft, gentle laugh.

"I'm afraid not. I happen to know its illegal to keep people or I never would have allowed you to leave that first night."

"And you keeping me is a bad thing?"

A secretive smile twisted onto the other's lips as he rested his chin on the back of his hands.

"You have no idea."

**_мать- Mother_**


	26. Chapter 26

This was not the way he wanted this to go.

Red sighed softly as he resisted the urge to bang his head into the nearest wall. Not even bothering to hide his annoyance, the Russian glanced up at at the two men glaring daggers at each other from oppisite sides of his desk.

Why was it none of his plans went the way he wanted them to when he wanted them to?

He could see both Agents' hands twitch at their thighs as if just waiting for an excause to pull their guns on each other. As amusing as that was, Red highly doubted that his insuracne would cover 'Angry Agents Killing Each Other in His Private Office'.

"Nigel. Buck. Sit down."

His tone was athoritive leaving no room for argument as the two quickly made theirselves comfortable in his guest chairs. Leaning back in his chair, the Russian watched the other two glare at each other while trying to subtitly kick each other from under his desk.

"Nigel, this is Buck Rockgut. Buck this is Nigel Tux."

* * *

So this was the American that had caught Red's attention. He didn't seem like much to Nigel.

Sure the other was physically fit and sure he had looks but the Spy was willing to bet that was all the American had. All brawn no brains and everyone knew you needed brains if you wanted to keep up with the Mad Russian across from them.

Hell, it was painfully obvious the other didn't even recognize Red for what he really was, even when the other was all but throwing it in their faces. Why the Russian saw anything in this one was beyond Nigel, the rouge could do much better then anything the American had to offer.

And what type of name was Rockgut anyway? Did the other just go around randomly swallowing rocks?

* * *

So this was the Nancy Cat.

He didn't look like much, possibly a stuck up stiff with a broom handle shoved to far up his for anyone to hope to remove.

And what was with the looks the white haired Brit kept shooting the Business Man across from them? It was painfully obvious the other had some sort of attachment to the younger, but surely he could see the other was taken by -in his opinion- a much manlier example of the male species.

Of course that wasn't much of a surprise, the rouge haired Russian obviously knew what he wanted and the Nancy Cat wasn't it. Yet it appeared no one had bothered telling the Brit that, either that or the other was disillusioning himself into hoping he stood a chance.

"So.."

The Brit raised an eyebrow looking over towards the American.

"So?"

"How do you two know each other?"

'I hunted him down since childhood in multiple futile attempts to arrest him from crimes against humanity.' Nigel thought silently to himself but just barely kept himself from giving such an answer since he was no point in sharing vital Intel with the other Agent.

"We grew up together."

Red spoke up, deciding only to gave the American a half truth.

* * *

_**"At least I didn't invade his home and attempt to kill him!"**_

_**"I didn't know he was allergic!"**_

_**"What type of self-centered person grows up with someone and doesn't even know the other's allergies?"**_

Gods above, did they ever shut up?

Red squeezed his eyes shut while massaging his temples in a vain attempt to drown out his headache. Standing the Russian made his way towards the door, not all that surprised when neither Agent noticed as they continued to argue with each other.

Sighing softly the Russian shut the door behind him before making his way towards the Lobby. He needed some fresh air after listening to those two for so long.

Unfortunately the Russian villain didn't get very far as he was stopped at the main door by his Secretary holding a thick ten inch pile of papers needing his signature immediately. Staring at the papers forcibly shoved into his hands the Russian swallowed the lump in his throat, he really didn't want to go back into his office where he would be forced to listen to those flightless birds have a measuring contest.

Glancing at the woman across from him with pleading 'kicked puppy left in the rain' look the Russian gave his best child like voice.

"Can I use your office Margret?"


	27. Chapter 27

It was sad how easy Red fount it to sneak into a Top Secret Military establishment supposed to have one of the best security measures in the United States.

Almost too easy really.

Where was the surplus gaurds? The hounds? The state of the art lazer security system he knew they had?

Something wasn't adding up here. Frowning behind his mask the Russain couldn't help but narrow his good eye as it moved around the room, searching for something- anything- that didn't belong. Nothing really seemed out of place but that didn't sooth the Russian, rather quite the opposite.

Usually there were coffee mugs lying around when one worked late, maybe a few papers scattered on a desk, a pencil or two laying about. Hardly was there ever such a perfectly normal workplace, let alone a lab, when the scientist should be working.

Something didn't add up.

Cautiously the rouge hair man made his way towards where he knew the program was. Trap or not he needed that program for his plan to finally come to fruition.

* * *

Jethro had to admit, he was quite impressed. Their thief had quite the talent for getting past their security, even if they did lax it a bit to drawl the crook in.

Nodding towards the Agent hidden with him, he watched the other pick up the program before giving the gesture to move in.

"Freeze."

the blacked covered figure froze instantly as its shoulders tensed and it spun to find itself surrounded with every gun in the room aimed at it.

"Put you're hands in the air and get on your knees."

* * *

It was times like this that Red hated being right.

He could hear the blasted Penguin ordering him to get down but Red honestly had no intention on obeying such an order. He couldn't really afford to get caught, which left only one other option: Escape.

It wouldn't be easy though, every gun in the room was quite firmly trained on him and every exit blocked by at least ten Agents, just waiting for him to pull something stupid. It only left him two real options and neither were quite guaranteed to work.

It seems he was going to have to play this one by chance and hope for the best.

Mentally sighing the Russian rolled his shoulders, eying the vent he had used to enter the room, which thankfully was still open. Narrowing his lone eye, the rouge hair villain lunged for the ventilation.

A moment later, every gun in the room went off.

* * *

Margret was used to working late nights, it was a common factor for those working for Red von Sova, aka The Mad Russian, the Recluse Inventor, ect...

Oh course no one quite knew how mad the younger man actually was, those sad pitiful humans only saw a Successful Genius and Animal Activist with far more money then any of them could ever hope to lay claim to. None of them, despite what they may argue, quite knew the younger like she did.

Oh course Humans were so simple minded so she highly doubted they would ever suspect that this company was run by a villainous red squirrel and the other various animals he turned human for a new start.

Turning as he door open, Margret instantly jumped to her feet as her boss staggered in with a rapidly growing crimson blotch on his side and a black full facial mask in his free hand.

_**"Sir!"**_

* * *

_Narrowing his lone eye, the rouge hair villain lunged for the ventilation._

_A moment later, every gun in the room went off. Acting more on instinct the young villain had slid for it thanking whatever Narrowing his lone eye, the rouge hair villain lunged for the ventilation._

_Thanking every deity listening that it had been a ground system venation instead of the old fashion air ducts. Right before he was fully clear though a sharp pain nicked at his lower back before he felt himself falling downwards. It wasn't until he was out in the clear that Red bothered to investigate the cause for the pain and by then a large crimson stain had spread onto the front of his shirt._

_Mentally growing at the lucky shot, the young man had quickly tied his shirt around the wound and fixed the jacket he had stored away pre-hand to hide it before heading for his Office Building. _

_Margret was going to throw a fit but he couldn't possibly go home to where Nigel would be waiting. And Rockgut, well, he was definitely out of the question seeing as it was his mentor that had managed the lucky shot. He wasn't quite that insane._

Okay, maybe he was insane. Why else would he have thought Margret was a good idea?

"You could have been killed Sir."

"I wasn't."

"You could have been or worse: Captured!"

"Do you really have that little faith in me?"

"Its not a matter of faith Sir, but facts. Two inches to the left and that bullet would have nicked your Renal Arteries."

A soft sigh left the Russian as he placed his head back on top of his arms.

"Can you remove the bullet or not?"

An insulted sound came from behind him and he felt the fingers on his back dig into his skin in annoyance.

"Oh I can, but I'm afraid we're out of Antiseptic. "

It was a bold face lie and Red knew it, he had personally seen it restocked, but didn't really see a point in calling her out on it. He had injured her pride and if she wanted it to hurt, Red doubted a little Antiseptic would help him.

"That's fine. "

"Alright then Sir, I'm going to need you to be utterly still."

Oh yes he was defiantly mad, closing his eye the Russian tried to pretend he didn't see the insane smile on his Sectary's face as she picked up a scalpel.


	28. Chapter 28

God that woman was a sadist.

Red couldn't help but wince slightly as Margret dumped another six inch stack of paperwork onto his desk as his back throbbed painfully while the bandages painfullly stratched at his skin.

Every brain cell he had was yelling at him to go home, take off those damn bandages and soak in a warm bath. Yet he was trapped here doing paperwork.

He wanted to go home, he really did but Nigel was there and the spy would instinctly take note of his fresh wounds and be able to pin point the break in back to him.

And then there was Margret, smiling oh so innocently, yet showing far to many teeth to be even remotely innocent. She was purposely pilling the workload down on him. It was painfully obvious to the Russian that this was a Subtitle of Torture him for even monetarily doubting her skills. Though Red didn't want to admit it, her tactic was working quite well.

Mentally praying for some intervention, the rouge gripped his pen a bit tighter then necessary before setting to work.

This was already promising to be a long day.

* * *

By lunch Red was about ready to commit mass murder.

Six meetings and Twelve ten inch stacks of paperwork every hour for the past eight hours would be enough to drive anyone mad. For the first time in years, the rouge hair man was beginning to regret making this company though he soon pushed that thought away.

Owning the Business had more Pros then Cons and he couldn't afford time to regrets, least past ones decided to resurface and cause a mental breakdown. Squaring his shoulder, the Russian locked down those thoughts before any memories decided to resurface. Reaching over, he hit the button for his Sectary.

"Margret, I'm heading out for lunch. I want the paperwork done by time I return. That is all."

Smirking to himself at the sputtering noise from the other side of the phone, Red release his hold on the button and stood, slipping on his coat as he did so. Smiling the Russian headed down the hallway before slipping out a window to use the Emergency Fire Exit- least Margret be waiting to block him at the door. In no time at all he was slipping into the Lunch Hour Crowd and well on his way away from the building.

* * *

Nigel had little to no doubts Red had been involved in the Break in 'Incident' last night, especially when the Russian didn't come home.

A part of him was gleeful to watch the Americans rush about like chickens without their head but another, more responsible, part of him knew he would have to have a word with is adversary/lover. Which was why he was currently scouting all the Russian's favorite hide outs in hopes of spotting that unique head of rouge hair.

So far he was having no such luck. A few close calls and just misses but nothing solid.

Scowling in frustration, the British Spy crossed The Nightfall Tavern off his list before glancing to the next one:

The Central Park.

Shoving the piece of paper into his jacket pocket, the spy began to make his way through the Lunch Hour Crowd and towards the direction he parked his car.

* * *

Despite his loathing for humanity, Red had to admit they made a good food.

Moaning blissfully as he savored the taste of his pasta the villain couldn't help but allow his good eye to flutter close for a brief moment.

Good food. A quite area deserted of the park with only mother nature around. It was perfect for the Russian.

If only he could trap the moment and live in it forever, unfortunately even Red had given up on that sort of technology being invented any time this era. They just didn't have the material, he looked, but maybe in a couple hundred years. Shame it wouldn't be in his time.

Slowly the Russian opened his good eye and almost choked on his food as he forcibly swallowed it. Coughing roughly into his hand, he glared angrily at the amused looking man -kneeling down so they were eye level- before him.

"Enjoying yourself, Love?"

"Da," Red admitted as he scowled at the British man, "Until you decided to show up."

That smile grew, partially showing just enough teeth not to be threatening or challenging, but honestly amused.

For a brief moment emerald eyes glanced downward, the only warning the rouge had, before Nigel leaned forward and set of teeth closed over the fork in his hand, stealing away the next bite of his meal. As if someone had finally decided to finally hit the 'ON' button, Red's reflexes quickly kicked it. One hand roughly pushing the other away from him while the other held his lunch closer and his golden eye narrowed angrily.

"Get your own, Leech."

* * *

A soft amused chuckle left Nigel after he swallowed the rather delicious bite of morsel.

"Now why would I do that when you have enough for two?"

"Nyet. There's only enough for one. "

Standing the spy dusted himself off before moving back in front of the other, finding humor in how that eye subconsciously followed his every movement. Allowing his smile to gain a predatory hint to it, he leaned a bit closer enjoying how that lone pupil dilated ever so slightly as his breath caressed the other's face.

"Well, if you're so sure there's not enough Pasta we could always share something a little more. Though we'd need a more private place then this one...Unless you would prefer to share here?"

For the briefest of moments a light flush appeared on the younger's face before it was gone and Nigel fount himself holding the younger's lunch as the Russian stood.

"You can have it. I suddenly find myself no longer hunger."

Quickly the younger's slender form brushed past him, causing a slight frown to appear on the Spy's face before his eyes shinned and a mischief smile appeared in its place. Swiftly an arm wrapped firmly around the other's frail wraist and pulled the younger down into his lap as he sat on the bench, were the Russian had once been.

"Now, now, Love. Its rude to leave a Lunch Date before you clear your plate. "

"That's you're plate now. Not mine."

Tightening his grip as the younger tried to squirm out of his hold, the Spy placed on a friendly yet satisfied smile.

"Its **_Our_** plate now. Therefore you have to help. "

* * *

It was official, Nigel lived solely to complicate his life.

Red scowled and narrowed his eye at the fork tapping at tightly pressed lips.

"Open up~"

He had tried to slip out of the spy's grip multiple times but even Red knew futile when he saw it, that and he wasn't sure how much more squeezing his back could take before the stitches reopened. Which was why the Russian Villain had resigned himself to spending lunch with Nigel.

Though he firmly drew the line when the emerald eyed man had the brilliant idea of feeding him like a toddler.

A part of his pride wanted to speak up and tell the spy where exactly he could put the fork but the last time he tried the elder man had showed the food into his mouth before firmly holding a hand there until the younger swallowed. So Red settled for glowering as it was proving to be much safer.

* * *

Emerald eyes narrowed dangerously as they watched the Russian firmly deny the obvious advance.

Where they really going to have to do this the hard way? Would it kill the younger to just forget about his pride for a few moments?

A hand moved determinedly along the youngers back as it's owner spoke.

"I'm giving you to three before I make you open your mouth."

The look the younger him was enough to send a lesser man running but Nigel had always been stubborn so he had no problem with brushing it.

"One."

A golden eye narrowed dangerously.

"Two."

That lone eyed roll before the younger glanced away, not quite believing the spy would be able to do anything about his stubbornness.

"Three."

When the other continued to outright defy his request, the spy dug his nail in through the stiches he had felt on the younger's back and into the now open gun shot wound- they were defiantly going to be having words about that.

More on a reflex the younger's lips parted- wither to yell at him or make a noise of pain Nigel wasn't quite sure- without hesitation the British man shoveled the pasta on the fork into the younger's mouth before firmly holding his hand over the other's mouth that way Red couldn't spit it out again.

"Chew."

The younger glowered but obeyed, though Nigel had a feeling it was mainly due to the fact he was keeping a finger firmly over the rather painful wound the younger was sporting.

"Don't give that look, if you would just stop being so damn prideful I wouldn't have to do this."

He couldn't help but chuckle as the younger crossed this arms firmly over his chest and looked away from him, looking more like a sulking child then the dangerous man he really was.


	29. Chapter 29

"Was it worth it?"

To be honest Red wasn't exactly sure how Nigel managed to convience him into the car with the Brit. One moment they had been arguging and the next thing he knew he was sitting in the passanger seat of the Spy's vechile, watching the scenery as it flew by.

"Was what?"

"The Chip."

He hated how well the Spy knew him at times, though he honestly had no one else to blame but himself for allowing the other so close durring their time in England.

"It was necessary."

"Thats not a Yes or a No, Love."

Sighing softy, the rouge couldn't help but pray for patients while mentally cursing the spy's need to know everything.

"Nyet, it wasn't worth the trouble it took to acquire it. Da, it was worth acquiring."

A soft laughter came from the white haired man as an amused glint entered his emerald eyes.

"I see. No plans to try again?"

"Nyet. I have what I need."

"Splendid though if you ever try something so stupid again I'll shoot you myself."

Red didn't even have to look to know the Spy was being serious, the sudden change in his tone was proof enough, though if he was to look he'd probably find the Spy giving him one of his famous 'Professional' looks.

Humming softly, neither agreeing or disagreeing, the rouge turned his gaze back outside the window.

* * *

The house was just as empty and hollow feeling as ever, he really should finish cleaning up that other Base soon.

Mentally sighing, the Russian slipped off his shoes and jacket, hanging the later up in the entrance closet. He could hear the click from the front door as it was locked and the soft patter of Nigel's shoes on the wooden floor as the other walked past him.

"While you're at it take off that shirt."

"Pardon me?"

Shutting the closet door, the Russian glanced over to see the spy digging in one of his suitcases.

"Your shirt. Take it off."

"Why?"

Emerald eyes locked on him as a elegant brow arched as if silently asking if the younger was really asking that.

"I need to fix the stitches or they'll get infected. "

A part of Red couldn't help but mentally flinch as the spy shut his suitcase with a hand while the other held a tray of needles. No, he was not scared of needles, He just held an extreme distaste for them.

A bit hesitantly, Red undid the buttons to his shirt before slipping it off. He wasn't all that pleased but an infection would be much worse then minor discomfort.

"Where-"

"The Bed. Stomach down please."

Sighing softly, the Russian slipped past the British man as the other heated up a seven inch need to disinfect it. Pushing open his bedroom door, the younger man made his way to his bed before collapsing onto it. Reaching out, he pulled his favorite pillow- a nice fluffy one- to him before resting his chin on top of it.

May as well get comfortable while he could.

* * *

Red never liked needles, it was something Nigel knew quite well.

The younger had a strong distain towards them and anyone coming at him with one in hand. It took years of prying and placing small pieces of information together to discover the cause for it was due to the youngers time in a Serbia Lab before falling into the Count's care.

And though he would never verbally hold the information against the younger, Nigel wasn't above purposely choosing the longest needles he could find so that way chances like this came around he would have them on hand to mentally mess with the younger.

Smiling to himself, the emerald eyed man set the tray onto the nightstand before glancing to the Russian who was using his favorite pillow as a chin rest.

"A fair warning, Love. I'm not going to use them now but if they become necessary I have restraints on hand."

"I'll keep that in mind," The younger spoke after a brief moment of pause as if considering his options.

"I'm sure you will."

Humming softly the Spy went to fetch a damp wash cloth and a bowl of water. He set the bowl next to the needles before using the wash cloth to clean the area around the stitches of blood and any dirt that could have founts it way there. Ever so carefully tracing every stich and scar that marred the younger's back like he had once done the first time they had ever laid together so many years ago.

Satisfied with his work, the emerald eyed man dropped the rag into the bowl of water before running his fingers gently over the broken stitches.

"I'm going to have to remove these and put in new ones."

"Just do it."

The mild tension in the younger's otherwise firm voice was the only true sign of Red's true feelings about his current position.

Nodding the spy grabbed the knife from his tray before setting to work, mindful to be carefully of accidentally cutting the skin anymore then necessary.

* * *

It was harder staying still then Red would ever willingly admit.

The feel of the tip of the knife gliding over his skin and the brief moments of pain as it sliced through his skin was bringing back more unpleasant memories then the Russian wanted. Yet somehow he managed to stay still as the elder man worked. Closing his eye the younger tried to force his mind to focus on something else, anything really, just not what was going on around him.

Finally his mind decided to settle on Nigel's humming. It was familiar in a way, a song that he could never quite put all the words to, yet the tempo was constantly changing: Upbeat then Downbeat, Fast then slow, paced then rapid. Never quite staying to one tune or vibe. At times, the rouge hair man could hear the words but other times they seemed disoriented and just plain wrong.

A part of him wanted to integrate the Brit but he knew from personal experience that integrations with Nigel was a two way street. He would probably end up weaseling more out of Red then the Russian could out of him.

Spies, even when you're winning in someone shape or way you end up losing in some other when they were involved.


	30. Chapter 30

For as long as the spy could remember the rouge haired man had always been a rather prideful yet utterly detached being.

Never once had the smaller cared what anyone thought or said about him, never once did he try to change himself into what the majority thought he should be. Never once had the younger bothered to become close to anyone- outside the Count, but did he really count?

Instead he had kept his distance, observing every so silently as he patiently wanted just out of sight.

Yet now the rouge was all but defying his very own nature while the older man sat no less then ten feet way- observing from the corner of his eye- as the smaller worked with- instead of taking charge of- a few hand selected personal.

It was obvious some things had changed, for better or for worse though was the true question.

Maybe some time alone had down the Russian some good after all?

"We could set the bomb here-"

Or maybe they were all just as insane as the rouge, the spy reconsidered as he overheard the woman- Margret's- conversation with the rather thoughtful looking rouge.

Jumping to his feet the spy quickly made to intervene.

They could plot all they wanted, but preferably when he wasn't around.

* * *

Gods above, he loved this couch.

Despite it's rather bland look, the piece of furniture was one of Red's personal favorites, it was rather comfortable and made for a good bed- on those days he couldn't bring himself to bother leaving his office- that he could retain within the room without anyone asking too many questions- try keeping a bed in your office and everyone suddenly believes your having an affair or your nonexistence wife is rather unpleased with you.

Shamefully he didn't get as many chance to use it as he could have preferred- there was just far too much work to be done for him to just be lazing about or lounging away his day- and was only capable of doing so right now thanks to Nigel.

For some reason the usually passive- outside of certain subjects- spy had quite passionately upon him taking a break, even going as far as to steal the rouge's files to ensure the businessman/inventor/villain couldn't work while he was out getting them lunch.

Really, what was going on in that man's head?

And did he honestly think the Russian only kept one copy of his paperwork? Hell Margret alone kept at least a dozen copies hidden underneath the false floorboard within her office.

Sighing softly, the rouge hair man reached into his breast pocket for his cell phone.

Since he wasn't doing paperwork he might as well see how that little side project of his was going.

* * *

If you wanted something done right, do it yourself.

Honestly the lack of progression on Project P was unacceptable. Hell it was so simple a child could probably do it.

But no, this incompetent seemed to believe it was _impossible without more funds. _

Did he honestly expect the Russian to fall for that? The rouge hair man himself had already completed that very same project a month ago with far less funding and equipment. The man was a bigger fool then the Russian thought if he honestly thought the Russian didn't know where all his previous funds had run off to.

Excuses. Lying to his face. Emblemizing funds.

Useless.

_**BAM!**_

The single shot rang though the room as the rouge hair man wiped the small splatter of blood from his face while pocketing his gun.

"Get rid of this mess."

The golden eyed man order his personal guard- and the only other person in the building- as he turned on heel and headed for the elevator. At this rate Project Protégé would never leave the ground.

Glancing as his watch- as the steel doors closed- the rouge haired villain gave estimated he had about twenty minutes to return to his office if he had any hopes of ensuring he was back before the spy.

Twenty minutes and he was at least a forty minute drive away...

Smirking slightly, a lone golden eye gleamed at the challenge presented before him.

He could work with that.


	31. Chapter 31

How did they always end up like this?

The young golden eyed man could feel his back arch as sharp, delicate nails dug into his wrist as their owners grip tightened painfully.

He felt as though he was on fire from within, though it wasn't a bad sort of fire. Quite the opposite in fact. It was the sort of fire that burned deep within ones soul and made every fiber of them chorus with immeasurable delight.

"Fuck. "

The grunted curse left the younger partner as the smaller male sink razor sharp teeth into the older man's shoulder to keep himself quite.

* * *

Love was a complex matter.

He had been so certain he was over the spy- it had only been a fling, nothing more- and had moved on to better things, namely his American.

Yet if that was so why was he here again?

Sharing a bed with the elder who had an arm tightly around his waist while only the sheets covering their prides.

Frowning, the Russian man stared quietly at the ceiling to his bedroom while pondering exactly how he kept ending up back here after telling himself they were no more.

He was over Nigel, this meant nothing.

Yet at the same time it meant everything to the russian.

He could have easily slipped free of the spy's grip and left by now yet he didnt, instead he just laid here pondering while feeling safer then the younger had in years. He didn't want to move, he just wanted to lay there listening to the others soft breathing.

No matter how much the Russian man claimed he was over love, love wasn't quite over him yet.

* * *

Despite the rouge villains belief, his partner wasn't as nearly unaware as the younger thought. Instead the elder of the two was keeping his breathing even out as he layed next to his partner. The emerald eyed man could all but hear the wheels spinning in the Russians head and taste the thick frustrations the younger was letting off in waves.

Honestly his lover always looked too deep into what should be simple- not everything was a scientific puzzle just waiting to be solved-matters while managing to somehow complicate them into issues that even the smartest of men would have trouble solving.

Rolling over, the spy laid his head on the youngers chest, listening peacefully to that alluring heartbeat concealed just beneath the skin. It was a bit too rapid, causing the British spy to ponder exactly when was the last time his Russian had managed a full and proper sleep.

At the rate this was going Nigel would have to start bringing chloroform to bed- again- just to ensure the smaller was actually sleeping for a change.

* * *

Another body.

Another kill.

The Bullet didn't match any previous cases.

And no one could find a motive for this killing yet despite that Buck Rockgut was almost certain both this murder and the one he had been previously investigating were connected.

He wasn't quite sure how he knew though it asked he would claim it to be more of a Gut Instinct really. An instinct that had kept him alive throughout the years and was now all but screaming at him that there was more to this case then a simple random murder.

There was something going on in his city. Something both men and had been involved in but before he could voice his opinion he would first have to find physical proof or some sort of link that connected the two victims.

Something everyone was overlooking but what?

* * *

_~Somewhere in Scotland~_

From an early age, James Potter knew Lilly Evans was the only one for him. Many would claim it love at first sight as he had sought after her since the moment he had laid eyes upon her within the Hogwarts express.

It may very well have been love at first sight- if such a thing existed- but what none of them knew was that James Charles Potter had known about the existence of Lilly Evans since he was seven years old and had purposely sought her out that fateful day.

Now many may wonder exactly how a Pureblood who had never once set foot into the Muggle World- such as himself- could possibly know about a Muggleborn who had never set foot into the Wizarding Word before that day.

The answer was quite simple really.

When he was seven years old, Heir Potter- James- had been playing a rather rowdy game of hide-n-seek with his favorite cousin, Heir Black- Sirius. And despite being warned multiple times not to, had chosen to hide within the cellar.

It was there he had stumbled across the Potter Family Tree and much to his surprise had fount his name branched off onto that of a girl with hair like fire and eyes of emeralds with the name Lilly Potter nee Evans. Beneath both their names had been another that kept changing as though not even the magic in the very fabrics knew what to do about that one:

One moment it would be a slightly younger looking version of himself but with eyes the color of the Killing Curse and the name Hadrian James Potter. The next a rouge hair man-older then him with a single golden eye visible and the name Red von Sova/ The Red Squirrel.

Now it didn't take a Scientist or an Unspeakable to piece two and two together.

He was seven not an idiot. The dates alone told him all he need to know.

It was the only secret James Potter had ever truly kept from his parents, his cousin- brother in all but name- and his friends.

And now fifteen long years later, Lilly had finally said 'Yes'.


	32. Chapter 32

England was just as he rembered it:

Cold and wet.

With a soft shiver, the rouge haired man pulled his coat a bit tighter around himself as he exited the plane and the snow crunched under his feet.

Honestly the rouge haired man wasn't quite sure why he was here, through if he had to guess it probally had something to do with the papers Margret had all but shoved down his shirt-He really needed to have a talk with her about personal boundries- as she pushed him onto the plane, ingoring the russian's confused protest.

It was thanks to time like this that the russian villain actually had to remind himself that Yes, he was actually in charge instead of Margret- through at times it sure as hell didn't feel like it.

The only good the rouge could actually see coming from this issue was the sole fact that he was a rather remarkable distance from the growing issues of Nigel and Rockgut, without either of them realizing he was gone- Yet.

Sighing softly, Red made his way down the snow covered street to the hotel adress Margret had given him.

* * *

Petunia Evans knew she hadn't been the first choice to help her father with the family business- She was rarely the first choice for anything especially since _'Perfect Lilly'_ had been born.

Her freak of a sister had always been her parent's favorite and Petunia was always the second option. She hated it, she hated that freak she was forced to call sister, she would show them all. She would be better and happier then Perfect Lilly could ever hope to be.

Of course for that to happen the first thing she needed to do was steal her parents' whole affections which was why she currently fount herself within an office next to her Father as they waited for the arrival of what they hoped would be their new business partner.

* * *

The Evans were...Unique the Russian villain would give them that.

Mr. Evans- _'Just Jonathan please'_\- was probably one of the slyest bastards Red had ever had the decently of meeting. He was the type of man who would smile like your best friend while he stabbed you in the back.

His wife, Mrs. Evans; was a rather beautiful woman though she reminded him a lot of a shark in a sea of blood though it was rather well hidden behind her motherly gentle front.

These were people the Russian could actually see himself working with.

Sly, underhand, intelligent, inconspicuous...Unlike their daughter.

Petunia reminded Red a lot of a horse- or maybe a giraffe, though he would have to apologize for insulting both spices by comparing them to_ that_.

The young woman obviously her looks from her mother or her father and for a moment the Russian allowed himself to consider adoption but quickly brushed it off when he was able to find slight traces of both Evans In the...offspring.

Petunia was the exact opposite of her parents; Loud and brash with a rather blunt forward tendency that had no place in business like theirs. Then there came the little issue with her seduction play, if you could call it that. It didn't matter how much she emphases or pushed up her breast, Red could honestly say he was feeling far more ill then interested.

Mentally the golden eyed man made a vow then and there that the first thing he would do upon getting out of this room was create a way to erase memories and point the damn thing at his own head.

Watching as the horse pretending to be human leaned forward, the Russian could feel bile rising in the back in his throat as she pushed her breast a little too far and ended up almost popping them out of her shirt.

Standing the rouge haired man quickly left the room in hopes of locating the nearest trashcan to empty his stomach into.

* * *

It was considered bad manner and an insult to leave a room before business was completed but Jonathan could let this... issue pass with the rouge haired man.

Honestly he couldn't blame the rather feminine looking man- he probably would have done the same thing in the other's shoes.

Petunia wasn't the prettiest woman around nor was she the most subtitle. It was why he had originally planned to bring Lilly, who was both prettier and more underhand then her sister but his lovely Nightshade had insisted on letting Petunia have a chance.

Well she had defiantly had- and blown- her chance though hopefully they would be able to repair this little issue and manage to snag their prize while at it.

* * *

"What if I told you I can have the...Issue with my daughter obliviated from your mind within twenty minutes?"

The rouge haired man froze half way out the door as a sharp golden eye focused on the British man's rather serious gaze. If this was a joke Red swore he would kill the man before leaving anyway.

"I'm listening."


	33. Chapter 33

There was something strangely familiar about the her father's currently business partner.

Lilly wasn't quite sure what it was about the rouge haired Russian but there was something that just keep screaming at her.

Maybe it was the shape of his eyes?

The familiar scowl twisted onto his lips?

The slight undertone of his voice?

Lilly wasn't quite sure to be honest, but every time she looked at the man a part of her couldn't help but think of her two month old son.

It was ridiculous. She knew that.

Yet every time she looked at him both her magic and her parental instincts screamed at her to keep him close. To wrap her arms around him and promise everything would be alright before vanquish that shadow from his eye by completely obliterate whatever had caused it.

Of course she did no such thing.

The man was her father's business partner and didn't really seem like the sort to be babied by his own family let alone a complete stranger. The only thing the man needed, let alone sought from her was a quick Obliviate.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Drawling her wand she offered the Russian before her a slight smile.

* * *

It unnerved him really.

Though he was proud, Red wasn't an idiot.

He knew when to admit- even only to himself- when something troubling crossed his mind. And though he had asked for it, the Russian currently lack of memory concerning a good portion of his afternoon worried him.

The very idea that there were people out there that could make him forget something- if not everything- at any time or moment was a rather rational call for alarm if you asked the rouge.

What was there to ensure no one was making a murk of his memories without his permission? What if someone had already stolen some or what if they tried to wipe them later?

He couldn't allow it.

Scowling the Russian man paced his hotel room while trying to keep his calm.

He needed a plan, something to ensure no one could mess with his memories. He couldn't risk not knowing, not remembering.

His life was make up with uncertainties but memories were one of the few things he could always rely on- until now. If they could be replaced what was to ensure fake memories couldn't be placed as well?

He needed a solution, a way to be certain and- some sort of defense- to ensure no one was ever able to screw his over.

Sighing softly the golden eyed villain reached for his phone. The whole issue screamed _'Magic'_ though his scientific mind shouted its rejection at the very thought- and there was only one person he knew capable of the offending variable. One person who had spent years trying to make him believe he had said impossibility.

Gods, she was going to be unbearable after this. Red just knew it.

* * *

Widow couldn't help but grin widely with amusement as she watched the rouge haired man slam his head into his desk with a mournful groan.

"One more_ 'I told you so'_ or if its even applied and I'll cut out your tongue."

Spoilsport.

Crossing the room, the albino woman made herself comfortable on the corner of the rouge's desk, ignoring that lone golden eye glaring venom at her when she paced her feet on top of his paperwork while helping herself to a bite of his lunch.

"Relax, Red. Not everyone gets it on their first try. We'll just take things a bit slower so you can better process it."

She pretended not to notice how his hand twitched for the gun concealed within his jacket.

Red wouldn't kill her, not as long as he wanted progress.

* * *

James Potter was exhausted, having spent the day dealing with his rather clingy infant son and Sirius- who he was beginning to suspect was actually worse then an infant.

Thankfully Harry -Hadrian was far too stuffy in his opinion- had worn himself out and was currently taking a nap with Padfoot. Finally, he would be allowed a sense of peace.

Maybe he would even be able to take a nap and catch up on his own sleep or better yet, be able to spend some quality time with his beautiful wife.

Smiling, the dark haired man made his way to the find said wife. If he recalled correctly she should be storing something away in the attic.

Of course fate was a cruel mistress, his wife was in the attic. Yet in a part he had purposely keep hidden from her, holding something he had purposely kept locked away.

* * *

Lilly had always wondered what James kept in the small room in the attic, the only one place her husband had restricted anyone from entering.

So when she had stumbled up the attic stairs to put away a box of books she knew none of them would read for some time and fount the door cracked ever so slightly open she had done what any curious person. She promised herself just a quick peek and pushed the door open further as she slipped inside.

The first thing she noticed was the newspaper clippings covering every wall. There were hundreds- if not thousands- framed and organized by date reminding the emerald eye woman a lot of an conspiracy board.

What was her husband up to?

Every so slowly the rouge haired woman began to slowly make her way around the room, emerald eyes absorbing all that she could about the articles. Strangely enough, every single one of them seemed o be about one man. One she had meet only hours ago:

Mr. Red.

She was going to have to have a word with him about his stalker-ish tendencies as she could honestly see no other reason why her husband would have to many articles and photos on one man.

And then her eyes finally feel upon the tapestry containing the Potter Family Tree.

She felt as though she couldn't breathe- her lungs burned and hands tightly gripped the worn fabric- as she stared in disbelief at the last member contained upon the tapestry.

_Impossible._

She couldn't bring herself to move, not even when she heard James calling for her or when the door as completely pushed open.

_It wasn't...It couldn't..._

"Lilly?"

She could hear the tightness in her husband's desert dry voice that told her all she needed to know.

He knew. He had know- for how long she wasn't sure- and hadn't told her.

Slowly she turned on heel, unable to make herself let go of the fabric, even as she forced her gaze away and towards her husband.

"James, Explain. "

It wasn't possible yet there it was. Her son- her two month old child- and her father's business partner were...

_Impossible._


	34. Chapter 34

God, his head felt like it was splitting in two.

Groaning softly, Red buried his face in his pillow- thankful for some time alone- as his finger threaded into the other side.

Despite how much it pained him to admit it, Widow was a good teacher- calm and patient when she desired to be- unfortunately, the Russian man had discovered he wasn't very good at this _'Occlumency'._

Though he was improving if Widow was to be believed.

Still...

Failure was failure.

Three minutes or Five minutes, it was still considered failure until he mastered it and could actually hold the mental barrier constantly on more of a subconscious effort.

It would just take more time- and a hell of a lot more aspirins- then he had originally set aside for it. If he put in more effort though, the Russian was quite certain he would reach his deadline.

Using his elbows to push himself up and off the bed, the rouge eyed man sighed softly before going to hunt down Widow- if he had time to complain- and mentally rant- then he obviously wasn't working hard enough.

* * *

To be fair, she had warned him. She had told him, he would need to rest but the stubborn rouge was quite fixated and just wouldn't listen.

Shaking her head softly, Widow allowed herself to let out a soft wispy sigh as blood red eyes stared down at the unconscious man on the floor.

Twenty straight hours of mental strain equivalent to being run over by a train a couple dozen times was just too much for anyone.

Stubborn man, never listening to her even when he should.

She should just cut out his heart and eat it for this- that would surely teach him for ignoring her advice and allowing himself to be vulnerable like this- but she wouldn't.

Crouching down, the albino placed her hands on her knees.

"What am I going to do with you?"

Getting no answer- not that she expected one- Widow stood before grabbing the man's arm and pulling it around her neck to help lift the Russian.

"You're going to owe me lunch for this. Maybe an all expense paid shopping tip too."

* * *

This was Hell.

There was no other words Red could possible think of to describe his current situation. Why the Hell was he even here?

"How does this look?"

"You look pregnant."

Ducking slightly, the Russian sighed as a mannequin flew past when his head once was.

"You're not supposed to tell that to a woman, Red. Where's your usual charm?"

"Right now? Dead. Where I will soon be joining it out of embarrassment if we do not leave soon."

He had been here for Ten hours now.

Ten cursed hours in a woman's lingerie store.

Ten hours he could have spent doing paperwork, working in his lab or even working on that damn Occlumency but Nyet, he just had to be here with Widow while she tried on everything she could reach before asking his opinion.

"I'm sure you will, but before that: help me carry my bags. "

Not waiting for a reply Widow proceeded to dump all of her forty seven bags into a rather annoyed Russian's hands.

* * *

This was Hell.

He was a man of action not a man of words yet here he was standing in the Nancy Cat's terrain listening to the christened _"M"_ explain everything.

How big of a fool had he been not to connect his Red with that or the Red Squirrel, the other had practically told him to his face on several occasions. Hell, he could clearly recall one time where the two had been sharing a bed and the smaller had told him he planned to steal the microchip.

Yet at the time, the ebony haired man had just labeled it as a sense of bed humor.

_**God Damn It!**_

The Russian had told him everything he needed to know, yet he had never once connected the facts to the truth. No wonder the Nancy Cat was being such a cocky bastard, he had known and done nothing but watch in humor- no doubt wanting this to happen. Wanting him to fail.

Yet there was still a chance, he had screwed up but by their own admission the rouge still had the chip, therefore he had yet to fail. He would just have to convenience the smaller to hand it over or steal it back before it exchanged hands towards its final destination:

The Mad Owl, Victor von Sova.

There was still time. So why the hell was he wasting it listening to these Nancy Cats?

* * *

M just loved to spoil his fun.

Oh and what fun it had been, stringing the rather obvious American along with promises of knowing where _Mr. Red_ had gone.

The emerald eyed man actually did know where Red was but still he had no intent on telling the other- Nigel had half hoped the other would become desperately lost within the city while searching vainly.

Yet M just had to assign him to the wretched man. If the American got lost on his watch it would tarnish his record, something the spy refused to allow- Not for the Bloody American.

Therefore Nigel fount himself guiding the rather directionless- _'I said left not straight upwards!'_ -American throughout London.


	35. Chapter 35

He had to admit, Red had never quite expected to meet up with his American in a British Tavern of all thing but a part of him was quite pleased by the encounter anyway.

It was rather lonely around these parts with all his favorites being on across the pond- as Nigel would kindly put it.

Yet despite his pleasure at having someone to entertain himself with even the Russian could see something had changed.

A bit more distance between them.

A slightly harder undertone in the older man's voice.

A new gleam in those ruby eyes.

It wasn't all that noticeable to many but to Red the signs all but screamed at him. His American knew.

How Red wasn't sure nor did he really care. Only one thing mattered to the Russian:

The American knew who he was yet was still playing his game- even if the American was trying to turn it against him. It wouldn't work of course, Red had spent years playing this game with both spies and bounty hunters but the man deserved something for still trying after all this- a boon of sorts to encourage the other.

Who knew maybe if he gave the American enough rope he would hang himself?

And if not, well then, he would defiantly be a keeper- maybe then Nigel would have actually reasons to worry.

Mentally smirking, the rouge allowed a flirtatious smile to come to face as he allowed the American's hand to rest suggestively on his inner thigh.

What could he say, ploy or not:

He was lonely, his bed was cold and this fit specimen of an American was offering to fix both issues so who was he to say no?

The only true shame was that Nigel was too busy glaring at the American and being a watchdog to join them, Red was quite certain the three of them could have some...

Interesting fun together.

Smiling coyly at the Agent next to him, the Russian pulled the taller to his feet before guiding the American up the stairs- only pausing brief to wave at his other lover when the American could see.

* * *

That cheeky little...urgh..

Nigel felt like pulled at his hair as he glared at the top of the stairwell his lover and that bloody American had vanished at the top of.

Damn it! Red knew he was here yet still allowed the other to seduce him- the American needed to work on his technique- then was cheeky enough to wave at him!

Oh, just thinking about it caused the spy's temper to flare.

Every instinct the emerald eyed man had was screaming at him to rush up there, barge into the room and tear the two apart before completely annihilating that damn American Bastard.

Better yet, why was he still standing here like an complete dunderhead?

That savage was with his lover.

Who the fuck cared if it was for a mission, he could easily seduced the younger man- he had done it many times before. They didn't need the American and that damn American didn't need to be touching what was his.

They had made a promise to each other as children-Even if Red chose to conveniently forget, Nigel wouldn't- the spy would hold that over his lover's head for an eternity if that's what it took.

With emerald eyes a flame and a dark scowl in place, Nigel stormed up the stairs to tear the two men apart.

* * *

Though he would never say it aloud, Nigel was painfully predictable- if you knew how he thought and how to read him.

So when his door was flung open by the enraged spy, Red had been in waiting.

For a brief moment the Russian could see the anger fading from his lover's face as he stared in disbelief at the bed and more specifically the man the rouge had handcuffed and gagged to it. A second later, the white haired man joined his counterpart thanks to a rather firm push between his shoulder blades.

Not paying the emerald eye man much mind, Red shut and locked the door with his trademark smirk in place.

It was quite pleasing to see things fall into place instead of having to fall back onto his backup plans.

"Red, Wha-"

"Я решил принять вас на это предложение втроем. Как вы видите я поставила третий как мы согласовали. "

"I can see that, but him? Did he even agree?"

"Нет, но он будет."

"And you know that how?"

The spy's only answer was a rather disturbing smirk as his lover advanced.

* * *

_Я решил принять вас на это предложение втроем. Как вы видите я поставила третий как мы согласовали.:_

_I've decided to take you up on that offer for a threesome. As you see I supplied the third like we agreed on. _

_Нет, но он будет:_

_No, but he will_


	36. Chapter 36

He hated holloween.

It was always too loud, to abnoxious with all the children running about while screaming for candies or throwing wild parties at all hours of the night.

And if that wasn't bad enough, all the crazies seemed to be out tonight.

Was it some human rituaral to wear dresses and wave useless sticks around or was it just a London thing?

And to make matters worse, the rouge was completely and utterly lost.

How that crazy busdriver mistaked Shadow Lane for Godric Hollow was far beyond the rather annoyed and frustrated Russian.

Still even here was better then being back at the tavern, waiting for his Spy and American to wake. They were both good sports with liquid courage rushing through their viens but without it...

Well he really didn't want to see the aftermath of that one even if he had to deal with hyper children and the crazies roaming the streets with him.

Sighing softly, the golden eyed man shoved his icy hands into his pockets as he made his way down another dirt road. Maybe he should just go find a good tree to stay in until morning, at least maybe then he wouldnt feel like his eardrums were about to bust from the...festivities.

Turning on heel, the rouge haired man was about to do exactly that when he dumped into another of the crazies, only this one wasn't waving a stick around like an idiot instead a pair of blood red eyes glared down at the smaller of the two.

* * *

Muggles.

Everywhere he looked there was muggles. Muggle children, muggle teens, muggle adults.

How did so many muggles get into a magical village?

...

It didn't matter. Soon he would deal with them- and all of muggle-kind- but only after the prophecies child was dead. Harry Potter had to die tonight, he couldn't risk them escaping his grasp just to kill a bit of filth.

Determined the self proclaimed Dark Lord turned down the road reading to The Potter's home only to bump right into a man who was about to leave the road.

For a brief moment rage course through the Dark Lord as his hand twitched for his wand- How dare this muggle filth run into the Dark Lord Voldemort! He, who tortured his own followers for daring to raise their heads in his presence and this filth just bumps into him!- only to recall a moment later exactly why he was there.

Sure he could torture the muggle but anyone monitoring for his magic would know he was here. The Potter, Dumbledore, The Ministry.

No, he couldn't risk it. Not when he was so close.

He could always hunt the muggle down after he killed the prophesized child and torture him then but or now Potter was all that mattered.

The Dark Lords decision to hunt down and torture the muggle afterwards became only more resolved as said muggle brushed his way past him mumbling under breath ignoring him like he was nothing but yesterdays trash.

* * *

It wasn't much of a surprise to find Red gone when he woke, the Russian never stayed- too much of an occupational hazard- except for a few rare occasions which the British man fount he could count on one hand.

Still would it have killed the younger to wake him so that way he wouldn't be in this awkward situation with that God Damn American?!

When he got his hands on that smirking bastard...

Wrangling his hands, oh how he wished it was that pale throat instead, the Spy threw on his coat and stormed from the tavern room.

* * *

It was a bit strange being a bystander for a change.

Red couldn't help but watched the flames consume the small cottage with a sense of uneasy confusion as he shifted the bundle in his arms.

He honestly hadn't been thinking all that much when he had heard a baby's cry from the burning building and decided to go fetch it- who could possibly leave a kit in wreckage like that- but why did he still have it?

Surely the kit had someone he could hand it off to?

Glancing around all the rouge man watched as the Crazies in dresses ran around waving their sticks as Villagers tried to put out the flames.

Crazies or Panicked Villagers?

So far his options were not looking good...


	37. Accidental Paradox

Everything had been going according to plan:

The Potters had chosen the cowardly Peter to be their Secret Keeper.

Peter had told Tom their location.

Tom had attacked killing both Lilly and James, leaving young Harry alive and alone.

Black was in Azkaban. Peter was hiding.

There was only one issue, His Pawn: Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, as no where to be fount.

It was as if his weapon had vanished into thin air, but that was impossible. The magic residue had shown the infant to have survived and the lack of foreign magic showed that no one else had entered the room to take his pawn...

Unless...A muggle.

Could it be? Could a muggle had stolen his pawn from the wreckage?

He would need to check with their police, hospitals and orphanages if that was the case.

Harry Potter must be fount at all costs. His Master Plan depended on it.

* * *

He had meant to give the kit to someone- anyone really- to be honest, but...

Well, considering his options taking the kit with him had seemed the most reasonable option. Heaven only knew what the Crazies or the Villagers would do with it and the rouge fount he could really do without having that on his conscious.

Which led him to a whole new issue. What in the seven Hells was he supposed to do with it?

Considering his occupation he couldn't very well keep it- especially after the Incident with his nephew Fred a few years back- far too many people tried killing him on a daily basics to have to add a kit to his worries.

Holding the Kit at arms length the Russian man tilted his head slightly in thought.

With its dark hair it kind of looked similar to Rockgut, but those emerald eyes reminded him solely of Nigel.

Hhmm..

Now there was an idea and he wasn't all that far from Nigel's Cottage. Smiling the Russian held the small Kit against his chest.

* * *

"Put the damn gun away Tux. If you shoot me there's a forty percent chance you'll hit the baby."

"Baby?"

Oh God, what had Red done now. Slowly lowering his weapon, the spy gave the rouge haired man a firm look as his hand reached for his bedside lamp.

With a soft click the room was flooded in light, forcing the British man to close his eyes tightly as he was temporally blinded. When he opened them once more the spy fount himself half wishing he was still asleep.

"Red, were did you get that baby from?"

_Please don't be kidnapped. Please don't be kidnapped. _

"A burning cottage."

_Please be kidnapped. Please be kidnapped._

"And its parents?"

The rouge man shrugged casually, shifting his grip slightly on the human infant.

"They were dead when I got there."

"And you did nothing to help that along?"

"Nyet. For once I find myself innocent of all charges...besides minor kidnapping."

_Minor kidnapping...Well he has done worse before..._

Sighing softly, the spy sat up in his bed, trowing the covers off in one swift gesture. It was too early for this but Heaven only knew what disaster would happen if he left the Russian alone with a child for any longer then they had already been.

They were probably already tempting fate as it was.

* * *

"You want me to raise a child? Exactly how much did you drink this afternoon?"

"Da. Not a thing. I need it but I was planning to hold off until after you agreed."

"So you just assumed I'd agree?"

Shrugging casually, the rouge man shifted his grip slightly on the kit.

"I hoped. Though If you don't Rockgut's my next stop."

"Rockgut?"

The word was growled more like a curse causing the Russian's lone eye to spark as he fount what he was looking for.

"Da. I hear he's very good with children. He's already got his own Protégé: a young Kit called Skipper. I'm sure another child would be no problem for him if its too much for you."

Nigel was never a very predicable man- it came with his occupation- but there was always one flaw to his Spy the Russian wasn't above using to his advantage. And if exploitation of that flaw acquired the child a home, well...

Good thing he was no hero to began with.

* * *

The hatchling was rather adorable, if Nigel was honest.

So small and fragile like a porcelain doll. And if Red as to be believed- all signs in speech and body language showed him to be honest- the child was an orphan now.

An orphan Red wanted him to raise.

Though if he was going to, he would have to get the hatchlings eyes looked at- they didn't quite focus the way they should- and that scar on its forehead. There was something off about it.

And if he chose not to...

Mentally scowling the spy allowed his grip to tighten on the scarf bundled around the hatching.

No, Rockgut already had one hatchling of his own- just the idea of a miniature Rockgut roaming out there was enough to give the spy nightmares- he wasn't going to give the American two.

"I don't suppose you know the hatchlings name?"

"Honestly? Not a clue. "

_Of course not._

"Well, if he's going to stay he'll need a name. Can't very well going around calling him hatchling or kit all the time."

"Don't look at me-"

"You fount the Hatchling you name it."

Annoyance briefly flashed through the rouge's golden eye before it began to glance around the room as if searching for some sort of answer.

Honestly how hard was it to think of a name? Nigel already had a dozen or so on the tip of his tongue.

"Private. "

"Pardon me?"

"You told me to pick a name: Private. "

Well...

That was a bit...Unique.

Nigel himself had personally been leaning more towards Archibald or Reece. Then again he did ask Red to pick so...

"Private it is."

He suppose Red could have picked worse.


	38. Chapter 38

This was too easy. Had no one ever tuaght this woman to read a contract before signing it or did she just assume everything was all in her faviour naturally?

Johnathan was probally rolling in his grave at his only living daughter's stupidity, Petunia Dudely nee Evans was without a doubt the worst business woman the russian had ever meet. Still it worked out pretty well in his favour, though now he was going to have to figure out what exactly he was susposed to do with Evan's family business.

Maybe the Count was in need of a new hobby?

Or maybe he could just claim it an early birthday present?

His old man would problally get a kick out of it- litterally in some cases- or he'd end up terrorizing everyone until he somehow ended up in control of the whole London Underground...

Oh well, to be honest the rouge couldn't bring himself to care what the Mad Owl did with the business as long as it never ended up back in that dicispicle woman's hands and he never had to see the paperwork.

* * *

To be honest the child wasn't as bad as Nigel had first expected.

The toddler was rather easy to care for- if you managed to overlook the constant crying it was left alone and the dirty diapers- but there was just one little issue.

What was he going to do with the child when his charade as a human was over?

It was worrying honestly, it the child had been anything other then human the spy was certain he would be able to get away with raising it- no matter what animal hatchling it was- but a human hatchling...

He'd probably have better luck getting everyone in the Hoboken Zoo to join a Peace Core.

In other words, it would _never_ happen.

There would be absolutely no _legal_ way to keep the hatchling.

Sighing softly, the Spy ran his free hand through his hair while the other held said hatchling on his hip.

If there was no legal way he would just have to look for aid from the other side. Luckily he had a few... Unsavorily sources he could start with.

* * *

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

How?

He had searched every Orphanage, Church and Police station within the a five hundred mile radius yet Albus Dumbledore had yet to find so much as a hair of his pawn.

When that had failed the old man had finally resorted to magic- both legal and illegal- to try locating his missing pawn but there seemed to be some sort of interference that caused every object he attached the spells to go haywire. It was rather particular as the only thing he could possible cause such a reaction was if there were two Harry Potters running around or if his weapon was hidden behind Wards even more powerful then that of Hogwarts itself.

The first option was utterly ridiculous: He, the Great Albus Dumbledore; and self proclaimed Leader of the Light would have noticed Two Harry Potters if there was another running about.

Which left only a much graver issue: If Harry Potter was behind Wards then it was no muggle that took his pawn. Instead it would a Wizard- and a rather powerful one- defying him or worse a Death Eater had his weapon. He could not allow this.

He would have to ring a call to arms in hopes of locating the child and bringing everything back onto its rightful track if his plans were to ever see fruitarian.

* * *

He didn't really believe in magic, reality had no place for such childish delusions, especially when dealing with a job like is.

He didn't know what an animagus was and to be honest Nigel didn't really care. The only thing that matter to him was the small hatchling within his palms- he had believed the Lad small before but this was ridiculous. Not even he had been so small as a hatchling, though it may have something to do with the fact they were different breeds...

Oh well, he'd just be sure to feed the Hatchling a bit more then what he normally would have. Plenty of fish, krill and squid should see that the Lad was a reasonable, fit shape.

"He's going to need help if you ever want to turn him back. "

"That won't be an issue."

If he had it his way the Lad would never turn back, though it was nice to know he wouldn't have to worry about the Hatchling accidently turning human. That would have been rather difficult to explain, even for him.

Now all he needed was a couple of well forged- timely placed- documents and no one would ever question the sudden appearance of his beloved 'Nephew'.


	39. Chapter 39

For a moment all the Russian could do was stare.

"Nigel..."

"Yes?"

"Why is the _Human_ child I gave you a Penguin Kit?"

"Oh that."

_Yes that_, Red could feel his eye twitching as he stared down at the small precious kit sleeping soundly in his pawn. He had always heard children grew up fast but he was quite positive they didn't precipitately decided to change species. Which only left one option: Nigel.

What had the spy done now?

"Well," an amused tone entered the elder's voice as he finally decided to glance up from his book, "You don't expect us to play human forever do you Red?"

Nyet he supposed he didn't but still... He had always thought they would keep the act up a bit longer, but now it seems Curtains would be falling sooner rather then later.

"And a Penguin can't actually keep and raise a human child."

God he hated when the spy was right, he always got that amused patronizing look in his eyes. Yeah, that one...

Though he supposed it was better then that disappointed one the spy had given him that day in the airport- Not that Red cared. Nyet, not at all. Matter of fact he laughed at Nigel's disappointment...

Because really, what else was there to do? Let the thousands of walking Nukes leave the airport alive in their cars and planes, trains and buses? Let them just waltz right into the hearts of every city and capital and blast giant holes across the world map?

Right because that would have gone over so well.

He had done what was necessary, even if it went against his own moral code concerning children, but what was right was not always what was easy...

He was ranting again wasn't he?

Right. He needed to focus on the current matter- you would think he was much older with the way his mind kept wondering to the past these days.

"-tea?"

"Might as well."

With luck Nigel would try poisoning it and Red would finally have another solid reason to start a fight with the man. If not...Well..

Good thing he always carried some good old fashion Russian water that would no doubt help ease the tension these past few days had brought him. He couldn't even walk down the street without some idiot in robes with a stick either trying to hug him- all the while saying something about celebrating and You-Know-Who-No, he honestly didn't- or trying to attack him for being a "_muggle"_.

Was that really an insult around here?

What the Hell was a _'muggle'_ anyway?

* * *

"You trusted the Nancy Cat with a toddler?"

The American didn't even bother trying to hide his disbelief as he watched the rouge hair man pour himself another shot from the bottle.

Sure Nigel wasn't the ideal person to raise a child seeing as the Agent had zero experience but the choices were rather limited and the rouge had faith the elder would do just fine once he adjusted. After all he already had the basics:

A steady job, a stable home, a good income, unnerving patients, and most importantly socialization skills that all children at that age needed. All the spy really needed was to call in for a maternity leave- thank God he wasn't going to have to be the one to explain that- and all would be well.

Now if only he could get Rockgut to see that as well, maybe then the American would get off his case about it and onto matters which he was actually knowingly guilty about- for example a certain stolen microchip containing a program dangerous enough to send them all tumbling back into another if in the wrong hands.

Please Note: His hands were very much the wrong hands. Even Red would acknowledge that.

Yet here he was arguing with Rockgut over who he trusted with the custody of an orphan child he rescued.

* * *

He really had to stop drinking so much.

Sure he loved the numbness the alcohol brought, especially after dealing with Penguins so late into the night, but it really wasn't worth the agonizing headache he always would awake.

Nor the feeling of being completely and utterly lost that followed when he realized he had no idea where he was. This sure as Hell wasn't his Hotel room nor his company office- he was quite certain neither of them smell quite of saltwater let alone fish.

Ignoring the piercing pain rushing through his skull the rouge haired man began going through his pockets, hoping to find some sort of clue as to where he was. After a brief search he managed to locate a plane ticket brought sometime around three am from the night before.

Gods above, who in their sane minds allowed an obviously drunk man on a plane anyway?

More importantly what the Hell was he doing in the fucking Bahamas?

Reaching for his cellphone, the rouge haired man could already feel his headache growing even as he slowly began to dial a well memorized number with only one clear thought within his mind:

He was never going to hear the end of this.


	40. A Day in the Life

Raising a child was easier said then done but Nigel was determined to do it and do it right- after all that bullheaded American and Physoctic Russian managed it so why couldn't he?

Well for one, neither the bloody American or Russian had their Commander trying to steal their hatchlings every time they turned their backs.

The man really wasn't taking his temperately retirement from the field very well.

Shifting slightly so not to wake the small hatching sleeping on his chest, emerald eyes focused on the wall clock for a brief moment. It was almost time for the early morning attempt. Hopefully the commander realized the had taken the time to electrify the outside of Private's windows.

If not then it was obvious the Commander spent too much time behind a desk then out on a field and if that was the case...

Well the shock may leave a mild limp for a month or two.

* * *

The second issue of raising a child was their unholy sleeping schedules.

Great Father Above that Hatchling had a set of lungs on him.

Every hour of the night was a constant headache as the young one gave his lungs a workout fit for an Soprano Vocalist and nothing the elder man tried to quite the little one ever seemed to work for longer than an hour at most.

If only hatchlings came with a 'volume down' button.

What the spy wouldn't give for a decent solid nights sleep.

Unfortunately his future was looking to be filled with some years of restless nights and countless attempts to bust his eardrums.

* * *

Fortunately the Hatchling wasn't much of a picky eater.

Quite the opposite in fact as the little one was always trying to put anything and everything he could reach- and pickup- into his mouth. After a quick rush about his cottage Nigel was certain he had baby proofed his home to the point where the little one wouldn't be able to eat anything he shouldn't.

Alas the British man soon fount out there was something he couldn't baby proof from his new nephew:

His hair.

It would likely take months for the small missing fist size patches to grow back to their accustomed quality.

* * *

Bath Time should have been a simple affair regrettably someone forget to tell the Hatchling that.

Don't get it wrong, the little one seemed to love playing in the water.

Unfortunately that hatchling seemed to love it a little too much and Nigel got his first crash course with accidental magic'- though the emerald eyed man was still reluctant to acknowledge it's existence.

One moment he had been trying to clean the rather filthy hatchling- how the Little one managed to get that dirty so quickly was beyond him- who wouldn't sit still long enough and the next...

The next things the spy was aware of he was up to his waist in slightly more icy then warm waters and the sparse toys he had bought for his nephew was flying about the room as if it was a normal occurrence. Instincts had decided to kick in and the spy had wasted no time in swiping up the hatchling- keeping him well above the water- as the little one clung to a live duckling that Nigel was absolutely certain had once been made of rubber.

Blissfully there wasn't too many issues though the elder was still cleaning up the mess left behind by the Hatchling's bath time incident- a large majority of it being that of water damage- and the ducking fount himself a nice new home in a nearby park.


	41. Chapter 41

He knows he said it before but just once more:

Margret was the Devil.

As he stared at the ceiling high stacks of vile papers sitting innonncently upon his desk and the smiling woman all but gaurding his door- probally afraid he'll make another run for it- the rouge haired man couldn't help but feel certain the well versed rumour was accurate.

Margret was the Devil and Paperwork was her toture from Hell.

Sighing deeply, the rouge made his way toward his desk, all the while hoping that someone- anyone- would bust into the room to either arrest or shoot him so he cold escape his new found hell.

* * *

It was wonderful for things to be back to normal.

Margret couldn't help but smile as she made herself comfortable on her Boss's favorite couch to sleep on while grabbing the daily newspaper so to keep an eye on said man.

Don't get her wrong, Mr. Red was likely the best Boss she ever had- giving her and everyone in the building a new chance at life- when no one else would. The Russian's only issue was his tendency to disappear every now and then without a word to anyone.

Oh how that drove her mad. The man was needed here yet he always disappeared and ended up in some other continents: Antarctica, Africa, Europe, The Amazon Jungle, The Bahamas.

What would it take for the man to just do one business deal without vanishing off the face of the earth for a couple months?

Was there some sort of secret everyone else but her knew?

Either way, It didn't matter. She was going to sit here and keep an firm eye on the rouge until he finished every last sheet of that damnable paperwork.

* * *

"Another unsolved case Jethro? That'll be the sixth one this year, I'd say your man seems to enjoy giving you the run about."

Didn't he know it. Six victims with absolutely nothing to link them together besides their murderer.

One year, six victims. At least one victim every two months- so their killer had to be a patient person.

No leads. No evidence. No motive. No pattern.

It was almost as if their killer was randomly picking victims off the street but even those physco had a pattern, a certain area- a selective type of person- that liked to stalk.

Closing the case file, the agent allowed a deep sigh to escape him.

"I'm afraid so."

"How about the breaking on the base? I heard that fount some droplet of blood in the vents."

While he knew the other was trying to raise his spirits all Jethro could consider doing right then and there was bashing his head into the nearest solid object.

"There was a two foreign substances in the blood contaminating the sample to the point that it was impossible to even get a particle match."

_Lucky Bastard._

Even if Jethro suspected who was behind the break in/theft he couldn't prove it and theory alone wouldn't allow him to just storm about New York looking for a God Damn Sova. Since the Blood was Tainted beyond comparison- what the hell had Victor done to that kid?- he couldn't access an arrest warrant for the rouge. All he could really do was keep an eye on the younger and hope he slipped up sooner or later, neither of which were likely to happen.

* * *

He knew he wasn't the only one.

He knew the rouge loyalties laid solely with the Count and Vengeance on the Humanity he made an Oath to protect.

He knew at a moment notice he could lose everything: His career, his reputation, his Protégé, his freedom, his very life if anyone managed to piece Mr. Red to The Red Squirrel.

He knew, but Buck Rockgut was never one to back down. His had started the dance with the Russian. he had suggested the bet with Nancy Cat of a Spy and he was going to be damned if he didn't win it.

But first he needed to get out of this God Damn Country of Rain, Nancy Cats, and escape mental patients.

Now if only all the streets didn't look exactly the same then maybe then he could find that damnable airport the Nancy Cat said was this way.


	42. Chapter 42

They were insane.

Of course that was rather obvious if one was to ask the rouge but very few ever did. How he ended up in this mess?

Well to be blunty honest Red didn't know but he was willing to put his money down on either Nigel or Rockgut- Fun Fact: when something unexpalinable wrong in his life, Red usual finds that one way or another its their fault.

So as far as the rouge was concerned so was this.

They probally got theirselves hip deep into come cult while was was running around Americna with his... _Beloved_ Nephew. And now that cult was stalking him. In the words of a British Spy Cough-annoyance-cough:

_Brilliant._

So here he was following said spy's_ brilliant _idea of infiltration- further proof it was likely the elder's fault or how else would he just show up out of nowhere already knowing his little issue.

If this turned out to be a repeat of Fiji he'd personal kill the Brit.

* * *

His _'Red's Planning to Kill Me'_ Senses where going off again.

No doubt the rouge was also blaming either him or the American for these so called Wizards stalking him as well but for once the emerald eyed man could claim compete and total innocence. It wasn't his fault their Country's so called_ 'Secret Society'_ had developed a sudden interest in the younger.

As for why?

Well how should he know?

Maybe the rouge had run across an artifact or two he shouldn't have?

Maybe the rumor the Russian had fount the Great Alexander Library was true?

Or maybe the younger was just unlucky?

Honestly who knew what those backwards people where up to.

* * *

The man was the key.

Albus Dumbledore wasn't sure how but he was certain the rouge haired man briefly mentioned in the Potter's Will knew where his pawn was.

How this Mr. Red could know and he not, was unclear the elder wizard but with time he would know soon enough. For now, he would have his Order continue following the rouge until he slipped up and led then to the pawn.

And once Dumbledore had his pawn...

Well he would have to ensure this Mr. Red would never had the chance to intervene into any of his plans again.

For the Greater Good, of course.

* * *

"I'm not wearing that."

"Why not?"

Emerald eyes glanced over at the rouge haired man noticing his clear distain towards this cultures... Attire.

"Its a dress."

"A robe actually and I don't see why that would stop you. I'm wearing one."

"You're insane Nigel. You don't count. "

Scowling the elder man gave the younger his best unamused look.

"I don't want to hear anything about insanity from you who couldn't even pass a mental evaluation," a smirk quickly fount its way to the elder's face as the rouge mumbled something about the test being rigged.

Picking up the silk clothe the spy moved closer to the younger his emerald eyes ablaze with a growing sense of humor.

"Tell you what Red," The younger's name came out more like a silky purr then the spy's usual tone of voice instantly drawing the rouge attention, "You can stop being a child and put it on yourself or I'll put it on for you."

* * *

He hated that bastard.

The rouge was all but avoiding looking at said smug bastard as he smoothed the creases in his...silk robe with his face ablaze.

_Gentleman_, yeah right. Don't make him laugh. He didn't care where you where from, no proper Gentleman went around pulling have the shit Nigel did.

At time Red swore the elder lived sole to embarrass him in every way possible.


	43. Chapter 43

Diagon Alley wasn't much is the Russian's opinion, a old-fashioned cobblestoned street lined with quaint buildings upon both sides of the street as the eye could see. The street was crowded that day, bodies pushing and sliding one another without pause like a rushing river as the so called 'Wizards' rushed about their daily business.

To be honest, the rouge was half tempted to just turn around, he wasn't suicidal enough to walk into such a crowd where anyone could put a knife in his back without anyone seeing, but his damn curiosity always did get the best of him. A whole civilization just hidden away by a beaten brick wall filled with scientific unknowns and all the answers to why in the Seven Hells they where stalking him...

Damn. If he didn't know better he'd claim the spy was purposely tempting him as there was no possibility of turning back with those thought drifting through his head.

So he did what he always did when face with a world of unknowns and unspoken doubts:

He took a breath, allowed a smirk to twist onto his lips and placed one foot in front of another, slipping slowly but surely into the crowd with a liquid grace.

* * *

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

There was something nauseate familiar about the child these sheep people called savior. It was utterly ridiculous as he was quite certain he would recall anyone with eyes the same shade as Agent Nigel's especially if they where hidden behind such hideous wiry frames as the portrait indicated.

Still, there was something about that name: Harry Potter; that made something deep inside him ring with familiarity even though the rouge was quite certain he had never meet a person with such an unfortunate name

A very unfortunate name that would likely jinx the child as Harry, though not commonly thought about; meant to persistently carry out attacks on and Potter was just the English word for Putter; a golf club of all things. So the way the rouge saw it they either

A.) Wanted the poor Kit to be constantly attacked,

B.) Wanted him to be a Pro Golfer or

C.) They wanted him to be a Pro Golfer that was constantly attacked for whatever reason- The Russian wasn't quite sure which was worse when he took a moment to considered the options.

* * *

He knew that face.

The elder of the two could feel his fingers tighten ever so slightly around the corners of his book as he stared at the infant's photo.

He knew that face, he knew those eyes, he saw them everyday and not in his own mirror.

Father Above.

That Mad Russian of his had brought him a Savior.

It explained oh so much: The Floating water, the living animals, the appearing out of nowhere when he knew he left the Hatchling in a crib, the flying toys and bottles.

And most importantly: Why the Wizards where stalking his Arch Nemesis.

What if they suspected?

What if someone had seen Red take the Hatchling?

Did the Russian even know what he had gotten himself into?

A quick glance across the library table showed the rouge starring intensely at a portrait, his brow furrowed, lips pursed ever so slightly and lone golden eye narrowed in consideration.

Judging from that look alone, it was highly unlikely.

* * *

If there was one thing the British Spy had learned over the years it was:

Never Attack Red from behind.

The younger of the two had a kin sense of danger and naturally quick reflexes that made many senior spies jealous. It was a shame no one ever bothered to inform the Wizard waiting just outside of the Leaky Cauldron for them that.

Still credit was due where credit was owed, he hadn't even heard the peg legged man move and likely wouldn't have realized they where under attack if not for the rouge stopping for a brief second as he sniffed the air only to spin on heel as his hand lashed out.

For a moment all the spy could do was bring himself to stare at the Russian, arm outstretched as it stuck the air. For a millisecond he had completely believed the younger had finally lost those last precious few marbles he had left.

At least until a variously scarred man with a peg leg appeared out of nowhere, stumbling backwards which a cloak seeming to be made of moonlight hit the concrete. The man caught his balance quickly raising a stick- a wand identifying the man to be a Wizard- at the younger of the two without hesitation.

Unfortunately for him, Red hadn't lived this long by hesitating or being over confident. Before the wand was even halfway raised a throwing knife had slipped from the younger's sleeve into his waiting palm only to strike out; severing the wand into two clean part.

The man seemed frozen for a moment as the tip of his wand clattered against the ground, both his dark eyes seeming to widen ever so slightly. Red had no such issues as the blade struck out again, this time catching the man's face from his cheek, through his right eye and all the way to his hairline.

Deciding he had witnessed enough and that it wouldn't due for the younger to kill their source of integration, the elder grabbed the younger's wrist stopping the knife from cutting the man's throat.

"That's far enough Love. We still need him for integration. He can't talk if you slit his throat."

That golden eye narrowed at him as a scowl twisted onto the younger's face.

"He can write. "

"It'd be easier if he could talk."

For what seemed like hours but was only second, that lone eye had connected with his own: Hardened and stubborn like the man that owed it before flashing with annoyance as the younger relaxed ever so slightly.

"Brilliant!" The elder released he younger's wrist ignoring the look the smaller shoot him as emerald eyes came to focus on the man clutching at his right eye on the ground, "Now then, I believe we have some questions you can answer for us."

* * *

Alastor Moody had meet the Devil that day, of that the Auror was certain.

Laying in a Saint Mungo's bed, staring at the white sterile walls, with bandaged wrapped tightly around his head covering the now empty right eye socket. The eye had been unsalvageable, the tip of the Devil's knife having not only managing to cut his eye into two but also managing to sever the optic nerve in one fluid gesture.

If not for the emerald eyed man who had been walking with the Devil, Alastor was certain the Devil would have killed him without hesitation. Thankfully the Devil didn't get the opportunity to do so or he never would have been capable of speaking the code for his Portkey that saved him from the Emerald Eyed Man's questioning- if one could call it that.

Which was why he was here, staring at a wall while he carefully thought over his father's words.

_"I warned you before Lad, " His father spoken from his bedside with a firm tone, "Constant Vigilance! Just because they don't use a wand doesn't make one defenseless. "_

_'Constant Vigilance.'_

He had never taken his father's loud pariniod ranting about the issue seriously before but now...

After he had met the Devil, after he knew it walked with man as one of them, Alastor Moody decided it would be the prefect Life Motto for him to follow.

After all- the Auror allowed his mind to drift to the memory of that lone golden eye glowing in the dark street way as a stray cloud blocked out any light from the moon on that starless night- Who knew when the Devil was coming back.

But when he did, Alastor would be waiting for him.


End file.
